


Howie

by ravensilverwing



Category: Backstreet Boys, NSYNC
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensilverwing/pseuds/ravensilverwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Howie have been friends for a long time and when he calls Howie to catch up he notices that something isn't right. What he can't understand is why his 'band' haven't noticed or done anything to help him. Making a snap decision he takes Lance with him to visit. What they both notice is how depressed Howie is and it's not something either of them can ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Howie

Howie sat in the kitchen, knife blade on the table before him. He’d had it awhile now. Ever since his grandfather’s things had been pulled out of the attic and his mother had told him he needed to shave. So he’d inherited the blade. An old-fashioned, real life razor. The type with the long, long blade and the handle to match. He’d never used it. Now he sat as was his ritual. Staring at it on his table top. Just staring. Thinking how easy it could be. Just a little knick. Nothing dramatic. Just knick a vein, let it spill out, blood slide down his wrist, out over his hand, spill over his palm and drip off his fingers. Just a small thing really, so much blood then it’d be over. There’d be peace. Soft loving darkness.

 

The phone rang. He put the razor away, back in its bottom draw, the one below the draw with the letter. All neat and tidy and easy to find if anyone needed to find it. A simple explanation that he’d had enough of fame, enough of loneliness, it was no ones fault. He just wanted some peace.

 

He answered breathless. It was Kevin. Wanting to come round with some business ideas, needing a little guidance on something. He agreed, glancing into the kitchen, staring at the draw for a moment then nodded.

“I’ll see you in a few.”

“Alright Kev, see you soon.”

Then silence. Back to the never ending silence inside his home. Perfectly quiet but it was artificial. There really wasn’t perfect anything. He’d been careful. Still took care of himself. Didn’t want to set off any alarm bells in the other guys. Make them worry. That wasn’t what this was about. No this was about peace. About loneliness. He just needed to get away, a little more permanently. Maybe forever style permanent.

 

He’d been careful to keep his business’s running smoothly too. Still taking trips to sort things out personally. Going to Lupus Foundation Functions. Giving out his time, his face for his charity. He believed in it. He really did. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that he had nothing to believe in any more. It was just the never ending loneliness. The others had girl friends, wives, and children. What did he have? Work. He had his work. His work didn’t keep him warm at night. If anything he was left permanently cold.

 

“Is your heater broken?”

Howie frowned.

“No. Why?”

“Haven’t you noticed it’s cold in here?”

Howie shrugged.

“Figured it was just cold.”

“It is. You should turn the heat on.”

 

Half way through the wind down discussion, the small talk, the chatting, Kevin noticed something was wrong. Howie kept glancing towards the kitchen, like he was in the middle of cooking and had something he had to keep an eye on. He thought to start with it was time. He had somewhere else to be, someone he was meeting later. But when he asked, Howie said no. Nothing else to do today, no where else to be, no one else to see. But he still kept glancing at the kitchen.

 

He’d only meet his eyes for short spurts. Then he was looking away again, towards the kitchen, at the table. And he was quiet. Kevin frowned, wondering if Howie was sick.

“Are you alright?”

Howie frowned up at him.

“I’m fine.”

“You look at little…” he struggled for a word, a way to explain his mood, the way he was sitting, the looks he kept shooting towards the kitchen.

“I’m just tired Kev, nothing more.”

“Business been busy?”

“A little.”

“You need to slow down a bit D. You don’t have to work so hard now, we’re supposed to be on break. You work too hard, too much.”

Howie shrugged.

“I’m fine Kevin, just a little tired.”

“Have you been getting enough sleep?”

Howie smiled softly and Kevin realized with a jolt it was the first he’d seen all afternoon. That was more than odd.

“I sleep just fine.”

“Oh…then is it something else?”

“Kevin I said I’m fine.” So patient. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

 

He didn’t mention he’d stopped sleeping more than two to three hours a night months ago. That he took sleep whenever he could get it these days. On planes, in cab rides to meetings. On the couch in front of the news channels. He still worked out, he looked fabulous, Kevin had no reason to worry. He hadn’t withdrawn from work, he hadn’t done anything for Kevin to be asking this many questions.

 

“You’d tell me if something was wrong though?”

“Yes Kevin, if I was sick or business was bad or something went wrong I’d tell you.”

There, he hadn’t lied and Kevin looked placated. He hadn’t told him he’d tell him if something, indeed was wrong though. And something was wrong. So very, very wrong.

 

He’d started to notice the feeling months ago, almost six months ago now. It had started with waking up cold. In the middle of the night, for no reason. Waking up and not being able to get warm. But he’d come to live with that. Then it had been the nagging little thought, that what was he doing today? Was it something really important or just something he thought was important? Then three months ago it had become more disturbing. He’d received the razor and his first thought had been, I wonder if it would hurt if I cut myself. By accident. Then on purpose. It just seemed to slowly, lazily spiral from there.

 

It had dominated his thoughts for almost a solid month before he’d given in, just pressed it to his fore arm, just pressed it there. To see if it’d cut, if it’d sink in, if it’d hurt. The blood had pooled up, just a little thing. A few drops. And he’s stared at them. Fascinated. Captivated. Then he’d put the razor away. Free from it’s hold for weeks. The tiny cut on his arm didn’t even need a band aid. He’d just run it under the cold water and watched those tiny drops of himself run away from him forever. Down the drain hole and away. Never to return.

 

Then he’d found himself thinking about it again. When it was all healed and gone. No scar. No questions. He didn’t want the other guys to worry. He was fine really, just having a little…well he didn’t know what to call it but he was fine. He’d be fine. He still went to work each day in his office. He still ate three times a day. He still worked out in the evenings. He still got up each morning and thought about the blade in his kitchen draw.

 

So the second time he just rubbed it against his skin. Feeling it cold and hard and solid next to him. So close but not inside. No. Just touching. Touching him. So warm now. Brushing against him, into him. He hissed at the sensation. He hadn’t meant to do that. Hadn’t meant for it to cut into him, break the skin. He’d just wanted to feel it, something touching him. So intimate. But he had to put it away now. Wash the blood off as it slid out of his arm, down his wrist in tiny rivers, pooling into his palm. That time he’d needed a bandage.

 

It still hadn’t scarred. He’d taken good care of himself. Of his cut and it’d healed. Neat and clean and without a mark. Well just a tiny one. A little knick high up on the inside of his forearm. Just a little thing. An invisible thing so close to the hairs there. No one had noticed. He’d felt better. No one had noticed, there was nothing wrong. He was fine.

 

Then two days ago he’d done it again. Just a tiny little knick because he’d spent 72 hours awake. No sleep at all. Nothing helped. Nothing made the cold go away. So he’d just picked the razor up and pressed it into his skin, felt it give underneath the pressure, the so sharp blade. Felt the sting as he saw the blood well up around the cold silver metal.

 

He hadn’t needed anything, not even a band aid. But he’d slept. Seven hours solid of sleep. Just a short little release of his own blood. There was nothing wrong with that. It was such a tiny little thing. Not even deeper than a scratch really. Well a little deeper but not a cut. No, not a cut as such. Just such a short, sharp little thing. He’d woken up shivering.

 

Kevin stared at him. He’d been staring too long at the kitchen draws. Kevin stood, frowning and he didn’t stop him. He knew, knew deep down that he had to stop this. That if he didn’t he’d hurt himself and they’d notice. Or he’d really cut himself up and then he’d be dead and they’d be upset and he shouldn’t want such a thing. So really, it was better if he just let Kevin go. Let him go and find the blade. Maybe even take it away from him. It was better this way, yes, that’s what he wanted. He wanted Kevin to take it far, far away.

 

He knelt before the draws, glanced back at Howie then followed his gaze, opened the bottom draw.

 

Howie heard his gasp all the way over from the table. Shock. Horror. Fear. Howie remained calm. This was what he wanted after all. This would make things better.

“H…Howie is this yours?”

Kevin was holding the razor. Howie nodded. No words yet. Kevin walked back towards him across the kitchen. Back to the table where Howie sat so calm and patient.

“What are you doing with a…with this?”

“It was my grandfathers. Mom found it in the attic, said I could use a shave.”

He tried to joke but his face wasn’t smiling. Just calm. So very calm and patient.

“Oh…oh…”Kevin stared at the blade in his hand, then cast fugitive glances at Howie’s arms. Trying to see his wrists underneath the long sleeved shirt he was wearing.

“Can…can I see…” he looked up and met Howie’s eyes again. So calm that he almost changed his mind. “Howie can I see your arms?”

Howie shrugged, like it was a normal thing, a logical thing, a very Kevin thing to ask. To worry about. Shrugged like Kevin didn’t have anything to worry about. That he was being paranoid but Howie wasn’t going to get mad because it was a logical thing and he knew Kevin would worry if he said no.

 

He rolled the shirt away from each fore arm, baring them to the light. Turned them over once, twice. Giving Kevin a good look. Letting him poke at the tiny cut on his arm that was half healed. Kevin didn’t say anything for a minute, maybe two.

 

“I’m taking this with me.” He tapped the blade he’d laid down on the table to examine Howie’s arms.

Howie nodded.

“If you want.”

He shrugged. Like it meant nothing to him. That it was such a little thing. He wasn’t worried. He was patient and calm.

 

When Kevin left Howie knew he was worried. But he didn’t know how to make him un-worried again. So he did nothing. Said nothing. Just carried on as normal. Didn’t want Kevin to think he really was freaking out about the razor, really was freaking out about how cold he suddenly was. How much harder it was to sleep now.

 

*    *    *

 

“Is Howie sick?”

“Who…Oh hello Chris.”

“I asked a question Richardson. Is Howie Sick?”

“Well…I…he says he’s not.”

“But?”

“What are you doing calling me?”

“I’m on my way to see him now, he sounded…” Chris frowned and turned right. “He didn’t sound himself.”

Kevin sighed. He hadn’t said anything to the other guys because there really was nothing to say. Howie had a razor. So did Brian. Howie didn’t have any cuts or scars, hadn’t gone psycho when he’d found it or taken it away. He was over reacting, he was sure of it…well almost sure. Between worrying that he was wrong and what could possibly happen if he was right and there really was something wrong with Howie. That he wasn’t just tired like he said he was.

“Richardson!” yelling.

“He says he’s fine.”

“Does he sound fine to you?” snapping.

“Well…no.”

“So he’s not fine. Do you know what’s wrong?”

“Well…no…maybe.” He paused for all of one second.

“And?” Chris was impatient.

“And I found an old fashioned razor in his kitchen draw.”

Kevin heard screeching brakes.

“You WHAT! You found WHAT!” Chris was screaming.

Kevin heard horns blaring.

“I found it in his kitchen draw.”

“You found it or you ‘found’ it?”

Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me Richardson. You stupid mother fucker. Did you find it because he was being subtle but pointing it out to you or did you find it cause you were snooping?”

“He was staring at it.”

“At the razor?”

“At the damn draw!”

Chris was enough to make any sane person impatient. There was silence on the other end of the line. Then the sound of horns again and a screech of tires.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get Lance.”

“Lance?” he frowned into the phone.

“Yeah…Lance. If you mother fuckers won’t do anything to help him we will.”

“He…we…he’s fine. He says he’s fine.”

“He also has a huge big mother of a razor in his kitchen. His kitchen Kevin, not the bathroom his Kitchen, which he was staring at so you’d notice and say something.”

“I did say something.” Defensive. “I found it and he didn’t say a word, didn’t get upset, defensive, nothing!”

“He wanted you to find it you great dick!”

“O…oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Kevin started to remember why Howie and Chris were such good friends. Chris was an annoying, hyper active bastard but he was a loving one. He cared about his friends. He’d do anything for them. Oh and he’d been doing psychology when Howie met him.

 

“Look it’s not like he has it now, I took it with me when I left.”

Chris sounded calmer when he answered.

“Well at least you did that much. Look I’m sorry for screaming at you but he’s upset, there’s something seriously wrong and I just can’t believe you didn’t DO anything.”

“I did do something. I took the razor with me, I’ve been keeping an eye on him but he’s always off on business and gets upset when I worry too much. Say’s I have a wife, that I don’t need to take care of him anymore.”

Chris sighed.

“What?” Kevin snapped.

“I still don’t get why you didn’t do more but…I’ll…admit…Howie likes his privacy. He’s not the easiest person to take care of.”

“Well thank you so much.”

“You want me to say I’m sorry, I’m not. You should have done something.”

“I haven’t just ignored…”

“I’m at Lance’s, you have anything useful to say?”

“I thought you were on your way to see Howie.”

“I’m taking Lance.”

“You’re…why Lance?”

“Trust me.”

“About what?”

“Lance.”

Chris hung up.

 

*    *    *

 

“I know I said I’d bring Lance but…sorry if you were you know…not expecting him.”

Lance glared at Chris. Chris didn’t flinch. Howie was the same as he’d been the entire time. Polite, patient, calm. By this stage Chris was seriously worried. Even Howie got annoyed after three hours of him being hyper. But he wasn’t annoyed. Lance was ready to stuff him down the back of the couch and gag him with a cushion but Howie…Howie was just…withdrawn. Chris finally put a word on it. He was withdrawn. And shivering.

 

Chris had spent the ride over to Howie’s explaining to Lance that Howie, well Howie wasn’t…Chris had confused Lance more than Lance previously thought possible.

So he’d ended on.

“You still like him yeah?”

Lance blushed.

“Yes.”

“Well he’s lonely. Here’s your chance.”

Lance glared.

“Chris, what is going on?”

“Will you just…find a way to stay the night?”

“What!?”

“Please.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s lonely and I’m worried about him.”

“Worried about him why?”

“I spoke to Richardson.”

“_You_ spoke to Kevin?”

“When I spoke to Howie he sounded…I thought he might be sick.”

“Oh so you want me to stay with him cause he’s sick.”

“He’s not sick…exactly.”

“So…why are you getting me to stay the night?”

“I think he’s lonely.”

“Chris.” Lance was growling.

“Just stay the night, he’ll think something’s up if I stay, so please. Will you stay with him?”

He sounded so serious.

“Alright.”

“Thanks.”

“As long as this isn’t you trying to set me up.”

“Would I do a thing like that?”

Lance growled.

 

*    *    *

 

Lance had managed to snuggle up to Howie in an obvious bid to get as far away from Chris as possible. Howie was still polite, still…withdrawn. He looked tired and the shivering was a fine tremor through his thigh and into Lance.

 

The “Would you mind if I stayed?” threw Howie. He’d known Lance for years because he’d known Chris for longer but…he was left blinking at Lance long enough that Lance felt like an ass.

“Lance just doesn’t want to drive home with me.” Chris blurted.

Lance was still pressed close to Howie on the couch, staring at the floor and wishing it would suddenly create a great gaping mouth and swallow him whole. What he was mentally preparing for wasn’t what he got. Howie shrugged slightly.

“Alright.”

 

Howie was looking at Lance but Lance caught Chris’s face as he turned to look at Howie. Chris looked worried.

“Right I’m leaving. You two have fun with the slumber party thing.”

Lance couldn’t take his eyes off Howie but Howie was looking over at Chris.

“It was nice to see you Chris.”

So polite, standing and moving towards him. Chris launched himself at him and clung. Howie staggered, suddenly still. How long…how long had it been since he’d had this much contact? He couldn’t remember. Weeks. Months. Kevin hadn’t hugged him. But Chris hugged him, hugged him like his very life depended on it. It took him minutes to let go and the entire time Howie sort of stood there, awkward and almost helpless.

 

Chris finally let him go.

“I’ll come by next week or we can go out. My treat. I’ll even pay.” Joking but he sounded too serious for laughter.

“Alright. I’ll check my schedule. I have to go to Chicago next week.”

“I’ll follow you to Chicago then. We.” He poked his shoulder. “Are having dinner next week.”

“Why?”

It was the first thing he’d questioned all night. Chris grinned.

“Cause I’m a demanding shit and I said so.”

“Fair enough.”

“See you know the futility of going against the Almighty Kirkpatrick charm.”

Howie actually snorted. Chris kept on grinning.

“I’ll pick the girl up in the morning.”

Howie blinked confused.

“Asshole.”

Chris’s grin went from standard to shit eating.

 

*    *    *

 

“You still want to watch the movie?”

They were sitting side by side on the couch, DVD in the machine. Howie was still shivering but he wasn’t pushing Lance away. He was letting him sit so close their thighs brushed against one another every time one of them took a breath. Lance wanted to rest a hand on Howie’s thigh but held back, waiting to see if Howie moved away, tried to put space between them now that Chris was gone and they had no real reason to sit so close.

“Yeah movie sounds good.”

 

Howie got up, moving around to turn lights off, dim others. Lance expected him to sit on the end of the couch at least and wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he chose an arm chair, but he returned to where he’d started. Their thighs pressing against each other now. Lance swallowed thickly, trying to think straight with the man he’d been crushing on for the last eight years pressing against him. Chris was worried about him for some reason and just because Chris thought it was a good idea for him to move in on Howie…didn’t mean it was. Chris had been known to have worse ideas but…as ideas went. It didn’t seem like a sound one.

 

Five minutes into the film Lance’s arm slid up the back of the couch, pulling the throw there down and over both of them, tucking the corner in close to Howie and gingerly leaving his arm wrapped around him. Howie looked over with an odd expression in his eyes but didn’t say anything till Lance finally blushed and broke the silence.

“You’re shivering.” Voice low and soft.

Howie nodded and shifted in closer.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.” He sounded so…far away.

“Here.” Lance wrapped the blanket around him and shifted towards the opposite end of the couch.

He watched as Howie frowned, glanced at the television then back at Lance who was reaching out to him, reclined back against the arm rest.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

 

It seemed silly to Howie to just ignore the outreached hand. In so many varied ways it made more sense to take it and let himself be gently pulled down into Lance’s arms, down onto his chest and just held there. Lance’s arms loose but warm, so, so warm. And his heart, it just…slow, deep, soft. His eye lids began to droop then fall, and for the first time in almost a week. He slept.

 

*    *    *

 

He wasn’t shivering when he woke and it took a moment to remember why. Lance. Arms loose and relaxed, his heart beat slow and steady under his ear. A hand slid through his hair and he knew he had to get up. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but it’d felt so good. Good not to be cold. Good not to be alone. Good to be so warm and…good to be held by Lance. Lance who was humming to the tunes on the television. Howie pulled away, pulling the throw tight around his shoulders as instantly the cold began to descend again. Lance’s arms fell away, the hand in his hair dropped.

“I’m sorry” he was blushing in the light from the TV. “Did I wake you?”

Howie wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Did you want something to drink?”

Lance smiled.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

 

Those words echoed back at him.

‘I’m fine.’

But he wasn’t fine. He wasn’t even close to fine.

 

“Are you alright?”

He rubbed a hand across his eyes, hiding the blink of dampness.

“Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“You looked pretty worn out.”

 

Lance was watching him, concern written all over his face. He had to get away. He didn’t want to be seen like this.

“Do you mind if I…” he gestured towards the stairs. “I’m sorry if I…I’m being a bad host.”

“I’m fine Howie, really. I’m sorry to just drop on you at such short notice.”

“No, no it’s alright. Do you want me to make up the guest bed for you?”

“Actually…would you mind if I…it is kinda cold…”

Howie’s eyes went wide but his mouth reacted before he could think.

“Sure.”

Lance said the only thing he could say.

“Thanks.”

 

*    *    *

 

It was strange at first. Having someone in the same bed as him. It’d been years. He couldn’t remember the last time someone else had joined him. It’d probably been Nick. When he’d been sick on the last tour. He remembered it being somewhere near the beginning of the tour. Nick had come down with the flu and been slightly delirious and scared of fans finding him without his security. Howie had opted to stay with him the night and keep him calm. Had it been that long ago? He remembered having small dalliances with guys in dark clubs somewhere in Europe and then again in the US when he’d come home. But no one ever stayed the night, not many got invited back. It was too much of a risk but…how long had it really been? Since anyone but another Backstreet Boy had shared his bed.

 

He melted into the warmth, he couldn’t seem to help himself and felt weak for the indulgence but Lance didn’t seem to mind, instead wrapping himself more firmly round Howie’s back and resting his head against his shoulder to say good night. Howie’s hand found Lance’s in the dark and he felt Lance intertwine their fingers. The sigh that escaped him was more than weak it was…he didn’t know but…it felt so good. Just to feel this, just to be held, just to be warm. Just to _feel_ someone touching him, holding him yes but merely touching him. He missed that. Missed it so much.

 

Lance’s voice was soft.

“You’re shivering.”

But he wasn’t shivering, not from the cold. He was scared. Scared of how much he wanted this, needed it.

“Do you want me to get another blanket?”

“No…no I’m fine.” He knew he sounded strangled, his voice just, it struggled out past the lump in his throat.

He felt hot breath on his shoulder, over his neck, then legs sliding in closer to his, Lance’s entire body suddenly spooning against him, plastered against his body from behind.

 

It wasn’t sexual, it just felt so good. He melted again, his entire body just falling into his embrace.

“Is this better?”

He nodded.

“Thank you.” It was barely a whisper.

He felt Lance’s lips fall to his shoulder. The dampness of his hot breath against his bare skin. Despite the cold he’d stripped down to his boxers and hadn’t put another shirt on.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

He smiled. For the first time in so long. He felt the muscles working inside his cheeks, his mouth, his lips. It was the closest to happiness he’d felt in…he didn’t want to think anymore.

 

He sank into Lance’s warmth, into this body, his embrace and once again, he slept.

 

*    *    *

 

Hardness. Lance was hard when Howie woke. He paused. Didn’t know what to do. If he should get up, move away. But he didn’t want to move away, he was warm and Lance was hard. Maybe it was just a morning hard on. He used to get those. He used to jerk off too. But that was months ago now. He hadn’t gotten off…hadn’t cum in…He frowned. Just how long had it been? Lance snuggled closer and he couldn’t help but notice the slide of him against his ass. The satin of his boxers making him slick and warm, Lance’s cock just sliding into that warmth. He felt more than heard Lance’s soft moan. Was he still asleep? Was he awake? What time was it? Should he get up, move away? Would that be the best thing to do? The right thing? Did he want to do the right thing? No. He admitted. No he didn’t want to do the right thing if it meant getting out of bed, getting out of warmth, out of Lance’s arms.

 

Lance stirred, shifted again, moaning into his ass. His cock just sliding there. Mouth hot over his shoulder. It was a shock to realize he was hard too. He was rising like the sun and just…aching. For touch, for warmth, for hands, for anything. How long had it been?

 

Lance’s lips fell on his shoulder.

“Howie?” so soft, so gentle, his hands running down Howie’s body.

Howie turned his head till he could look at Lance. Just looking. No harm in that. Nothing wrong with it. Did he know for sure that Lance was gay?

“Morning.” His voice was so soft, so low.

Howie’s eyes dropped to those lips, the ones he’d felt just moments ago on his shoulder, so hot, so soft.

“Howie?”

Lance hadn’t moved. Hadn’t shifted away, tried to hide his erection. He just lay there, his cock so close to him, brushing against his ass. He didn’t try to hide…Howie met his eyes. This wasn’t so wrong. He could remember from long ago how good this could feel. So good.

 

He tilted his head, shifted his neck a little, brought his mouth closer to Lance’s. Lance paused. Suddenly unsure. His right hand slid up to cup Howie’s jaw, gently brushing over the beard there. Howie froze and finally he felt Lance softly kiss him. No demanding, no harshness, no teeth, no tongue just…so warm, so soft, so gentle. Like he was a thing made of glass to be caressed but not forced open.

 

For a moment he was still. He’d forgotten. Forgotten what it felt like, what it was to kiss someone like this. Just to feel it, the soft brush of lips, the ghost of breath. The sweetest caress and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t do, move. He just felt, enjoyed, loved it, cherished it as the gift it was. Lance’s kiss was a gift. He shouldn’t take, he should just…His lips were moving, he couldn’t keep them still. They just shifted and caressed back. Moving against his lips. Over. Softly more.

 

Endless caresses and Lance’s fingers were moving, softly brushing over his jaw line, thumb over his cheek in the softest caress. It was almost too much, too much sweetness, too much softness, too gentle and yet…not enough. He wanted more, needed more. He shifted onto his back and felt Lance’s cock against his hip, breathed in his moan of pleasure till Lance pulled away. He shifted his hips back, took them from the glorious contact with Howie’s hip.

 

Soft tongue, gently caressing his mouth open. Just a fraction, a small opening so he could slide inside, tangle against him, his tongue so softly. He couldn’t help the moan, it just…it breathed up from his chest, over his lips, into his mouth. Lance’s mouth. Then the fingertips were over his neck, down to his shoulder. Gentle touches, barely touches at all but not ticklish touches, firm just light.

 

He sighed into it. Let himself be touched. Let Lance touch him, caress him, move his mouth over his and just kiss him so warmly. Warm. He felt so warm. So incredibly warm. Almost hot but just, not quite hot, just warm. So, so warm. It felt so good. To be warm. To be touched. To be caressed, kissed. He sighed and moaned, encouraged Lance when he paused at his chest. Shifted restless. Wanted Lance to touch him more, not stop.

 

Lance’s kisses turned deeper, warmer, less gentle, less soft. But still caresses. Still careful. He was being so careful. Waiting for Howie to say no, for him to pull away, stop him from what he was doing, stop him from touching him, kissing him, moving his fingertips south to where they itched to wrap around him, make him sigh and moan further. His hand made it to Howie’s boxers and he got sighs, he got moans, he got Howie’s hips restless and rocking into him. Nudging him lower, his cock into his hand.

 

Around his cock. He had his hand around Howie’s cock. His own hips bucked, groan meeting Howie’s as it fell heated from his lips and into…mouth. Groaned again when Howie arched under his touch, moaned into his mouth for more. Hot. This was hot, Howie was hot. So warm and hard and sleek. He tightened his grip, grazed Howie’s full lower lip between his teeth. More moans.

 

Slow kisses, trailing from his lips, out over his jaw, up to his ear. Warm breath hovering over his neck. Lips wet and soft. Trails of heat down his shoulder, into his chest, pooling in his groin. He was hard. So hard. It ached so much. He wanted more. Lance’s hand was still at the outside of his boxers, gliding over the silk satin. Sliding slick and measured over him. Over and over. He couldn’t help the arching of his back, the rocking of his hips. It just felt so good and it’d been so long. So very, he moaned, so very, very long.

 

Lance bit him, just a graze of teeth. Lower lip dragging against his skin. Warm, wet warm. He groaned, arched his back, rocked his hips more. Encouraged with his moans. Lips on his chest now, shifting down. Lance was shifting down…

“No.”

He sounded breathless. Lance stopped mid motion, half way down his chest, lips hovering over his heart, just a little lower maybe. He paused then rose up, hand still shifting, still stroking him, making his eyes close briefly, lips parted and breath heavy, hot.

“Howie?”

“No…your mouth…just your hand.” He forced his eyes to open. “Please?”

Lance nodded.

“If you want.”

Howie nodded silent. Lance’s mouth slid sideways, engulfed a nipple and he couldn’t control the gasp, the shuddering groan. It just…god…so warm, so hot, so good.

Lance paused, hand slowing slightly. Should he, could he, would Howie let him slide his hand inside? He laved his tongue over a nipple, feeling it pebble under his mouth. He trailed fingertips over the waist band and shifted to see Howie’s lip vanish between teeth.

“Can I?”

He nodded, hard and rapid. Eyes covered in lashes.

“Please.” So breathless.

 

He let his hand slide in, let himself touch the weeping head and it was…incredible. The reaction. Howie’s back arcing off the bed, his hips thrusting upwards, so desperate but the noise, the strangled cry of ecstasy. It was heady. It was a rush. Just to touch him, for that reaction, it was just…he panted over his chest, tried to control the urge to just jerk him hard, fast, to just watch him cum like that. So distracted, so in the moment of his pleasure.

 

He wrapped his hand around the silk of his cock. Letting Howie jerk, breathing shallow and rapid, hand gripping his shoulder so tight. Trusting. He slid it down slowly, letting himself get used to the feel of silk, satin, velvet, he was just so soft, so hard but so soft. Like steel wrapped in some exotic cloth. He moaned and tried not to rock into the bed, into Howie’s thigh, into anything that might make this last a single moment shorter.

 

Control. God. He couldn’t stop the rising of his hips, the rocking of his ass back into the bed every time Lance’s hand rose off him, slid back on him. Over and over with heat and friction and just pure pleasure. He couldn’t control himself against that. It’d been too long and it felt so good. So good. Moaning he tried to lay still, to just let Lance stroke him, touch him so intimately. But his hips rebelled again, rose again when Lance’s hand slid to the base of him, squeezed him there so softly, so firm. Moaning, he was moaning so much.

 

Then he went faster, still soft and squeezing just faster. Over the head with his thumb, down to the base with his whole hand, squeezing, stroking, breathing into his skin, making it so hot, so damp. His fingers convulsed. He was so close. So close already but he couldn’t seem to stop. Couldn’t make himself make it last longer but Lance didn’t seem to slow. Just stroked faster, faster. Squeezing, stroking. His head slid back, his hair spreading underneath him, he groaned, panted, tried to warn him. But it was coming so fast, he was coming, coming. He was coming.

 

Lance could feel it building. Knew it would be soon, knew it would be huge, knew that he was going to make him come. Make him moan and writhe and cry. But when it hit there was just…so much. So much of him spilling out, over his hand, the sounds from his mouth, those lips so soft parted in cries, groans, gasps. He bit his own lower lip, grabbed his own cock and just gripped it hard and low, refusing to come just then. He could wait. He had a feeling Howie had waited more than long enough for that.

 

*    *    *

 

Overwhelmed, he couldn’t…he was just so overwhelmed. With feeling. With touch. With sound, with everything. But Lance was still stroking him, so softly now, just a touch of his hand when before it’d been so firm, so…pleasant. No…it was more than pleasant it was pleasure and it’d felt good and he’d been warm and solid and touching him! He shuddered once more, finally going still. His hips still shifting a little, slightly, just a little restless. But his back was firmly on the bed, his ass was resting against the sheets. His eyes were closed and he didn’t see Lance watching him thoughtful.

 

Finally the stroking stopped. Lance let him slide softly from his hand. Let his coated hand rub against Howie’s stomach. A stomach slick with his release. It must have been weeks, months since he’d let go like that. Come like that. Come at all, a small voice murmured in the back of his head. How long had it been for Howie? How long since someone had touched him? Done that for him. How long since he’d come at all? Maybe he was one of those guys who liked to see how long they could wait, cause then the high was just that much more intense, coming was just that much more of a rush.

 

He sighed, feeling Lance’s hand rub softly at his stomach. He wanted to tense, be embarrassed at the mess he could feel there but he couldn’t. His muscles were too relaxed, too warm. The fingertips that stroked his jaw were clean, dry. His eyes fluttered open and Lance was looking down at him. So close, lips…breath ghosting over his lips.

“Can I?” voice low and a little husky.

He nodded, barely understanding what he wanted but trusting him anyway.

 

Kiss, just a kiss, so soft and delicate. Just kissing him again. So warm and light. Not pressuring him, just patient and waiting even though Howie could feel him hard and pulsing against his thigh. He reached for that pulsing, half expecting Lance to stop him, say no, he just wanted to get him off, but he didn’t stop him, didn’t say no. It made him feel guilty for saying no to Lance. But he just…he couldn’t…it was too much. Too much after…after not enough, after nothing at all.

 

He pulled away and shifted, rolled onto his side and pressed a kiss to Lance’s neck, then his shoulder, working his way down his chest while his hand slid down his hip and inside Lance’s boxers. The reaction was immediate, intense, the sounds he made harsh and breathless. He kissed across his stomach.

“How…Howie you don’t have to…you didn’t…I don’t…”

Howie licked under the waist band. He tried again. Tried to be coherent. Tired to explain to him.

“You don’t have to do that.”

It came out in a breathless rush, his hand resting on Howie’s shoulder, not restraining or pushing or pulling, just resting there. Howie rolled his eyes up, lips over his skin. A moment of shyness amongst the blatant sexuality of it all.

“I want to. Would you let me?” A soft but darting lick. “Please?”

“Howie.” It was a groan.

He ran a hand through his hair, let it trail out through his fingers. He nodded.

 

There was suddenly tongue and lips and gasping. His boxers were gone, his hips, he should be trying harder to still his hips. He shouldn’t be, he gasped as Howie’s mouth took him deeper, sucked him hard. Oh god! He scrambled to bury his hands in the sheets, not Howie’s hair, no, not in that beautiful hair. He tried again to still his hips but Howie had slipped a hand under him, stroking over his ass, encouraging him to thrust, to rock, to roll his…his hand grasped hair.

 

Caress. Even in the middle of all this he was still trying to be gentle, still trying to touch him, softly, gently but his fist kept tightening, his hips rolling languid. He couldn’t keep still and Howie loved it, loved the feel of his hand fisting in his hair, his hand touching him anywhere. He loved all of it. Just to be touched, to feel anything. But Lance was trying to stop, trying not to hurt him, tug on his hair, push him down further than he was willing or ready to go.

 

He reached again, this time up, taking Lance’s hand in his, letting him grab hold of him, not his hair which he seemed to worry so much about. Let him grip him, hold him, touch him. Palm sweaty and hot. He sucked him deeper, harder, shifted faster then pulled back to just lick him, tasting. Enjoying it, taking his time. He knew Lance was close but he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop the pauses, letting himself indulge in this. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had let him do this. Let him touch them, suck them, taste them. And at his own pace, at his own leisure.

 

Lance was shifting, trying not to come, trying to hold still but he couldn’t, he was failing. His hips were moving, they were rocking up into Howie’s mouth. And Howie just seemed to take him, all of him but that…that couldn’t…no one…he…Groaned. Howie was moving faster now, had stopped licking, stopped teasing and was just moving. Up, down, over. Hard, fast, stroking and sucking and…come. He came.

 

*    *    *

 

Howie was warm. For the first time in months. Over half a year. He was warm. His skin fairly radiating warmth. Heat. Lance stroked his stomach softly, marveling at the abs he had. They’d been kissing again, soft and slow, mere caresses of lips, barely any tongue. Lance pulled away just to look at him, glancing down at where his hand played then up into wide eyed brown.

“You’re warm.”

Howie blushed. Red flushing up his cheeks and down his throat. Lance kissed him again, lightly this time, almost chaste.

“Can I take you to breakfast?” suddenly unsure.

Softest smile. Just a hint, a slight up-turning of those so soft lips.

“I’d like breakfast.”

“With me or just in general?”

Another so soft smile.

“Where do you want to go?”

Lance let it go, didn’t push him further.

“You’re driving so…you can choose if you want.”

“I know a place that does wonderful pancakes, they won’t bother us there.”

 

*    *    *

 

“Wow, you moved pretty fast.”

“It was your idea.”

Lance refused to blush.

They were drinking beer in Chris’ kitchen.

“Yeah but…you know…Howie.”

“What about Howie?”

“Well…he’s a bit…he just seemed a little…”

“Depressed.”

“You noticed that too ha?”

Lance nodded.

“And you still got it on with him?”

Chris was shocked, he wouldn’t have thought Lance had it in him to just…go for it with Howie at the first opportunity.

“It was just jerking off Chris, we didn’t sleep…well it wasn’t sex.”

“He gave you head, that is not just jerking you off.”

Lance finally blushed.

“It still wasn’t sex.”

Chris was quiet for a moment, fidgeting but quiet. It was rare to get both together.

“So does this mean you and I can go double dating?”

“Who’re you taking?”

“AJ.”

“Dream on.”

Chris guzzled his beer.

“I don’t know. I think for him it was just a one time thing.”

“You could go keep him warm again.”

“You noticed that too.”

“Kinda hard not to notice. Was he like that all night?”

Lance went to nod then stopped.

“No. After you left and we were on the couch he stopped.”

“You were keeping him warm.” Chris smirked.

“Maybe.” Lance was serious.

 

“I think we need to kick Richardson’s ass.”

Lance rolled his eyes and took a swig of beer.

“You always think that. What’s new?”

“He knew Howie was depressed.”

“He knew?! But then…why…he just did nothing?”

“Well…he maybe kinda tried to help but Howie pulled away from him.”

“Did you just defend Kevin?”

Lance was staring and Chris always found that eerie. Those huge green eyes just unnerved him when he stared like that.

“Howie can be stubborn when he wants to be.”

“He didn’t seem stubborn to me. He agreed to just about everything you said. Even the stupid stuff I knew you were just saying to annoy the hell out of me.”

“Howie, not you and trust me, he can be stubborn.”

“He didn’t say no to me staying, he didn’t say no to me sleeping with him.”

Lance blushed slightly.

“See he likes you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“Well, and that.”

“Are you saying he let me stay cause he doesn’t know me?”

Staring again and Chris just had to look away.

“Well…maybe. He’s depressed Lance. Like really depressed not just ‘I’m not very happy today depressed’ we’re talking major depressed here.”

Lance absently scratched his ear.

“I want to be mad at you, but I think you’re right and if I made him feel even a little better, I can’t regret it.”

Chris nodded.

“Which you knew you asshole!”

Chris shrugged.

“I had to do something and you’re not exactly complaining.”

“No, now I’m worried.”

“So call him, take him out to dinner.”

“And if we just happen to get together over all of this so much the better right?”

“You have been crushing on him for half your infant life.”

Lance glared and blushed at the same time and Chris admired him for that.

“Alright, alright. You like him, you’ve been crushing but you’re also good with the whole…quiet thing. Howie needs quiet. I can’t help him Lance.” He sounded pained by the fact. “I’ve known him longer than any of you, longer than his stupid ‘Boys’ and no one else could help him. They’re fucking oblivious or with their heads so far up their asses…” he snarled.

“I’m not going to pity fuck him if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“I know you won’t.”

Lance sighed.

“He’s going to Chicago on Tuesday. If you’re taking him to dinner I suggest you do it tomorrow.”

“See that’s my good little spy.”

 

*    *    *

 

“Howie hi it’s Lance. Not sure if you’re screening your calls but…” he paused.

Howie stared at the phone in mild surprise.

“I was wondering if you’d consider dinner, tonight. I know you have a flight tomorrow but I promise not to keep you up late.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, hey wasn’t sure you were there.”

“I just got in.”

“Busy day?”

“Just weight training and a few phone calls.”

“I know you’re going to Chicago tomorrow I just…”

“The meetings not till Wednesday, my flight’s a late one.”

Lance was blinking in shock, he’d expected a negative. That Howie would say no, he was too busy, to just brush him off. But was he saying yes because he was lonely and wanted to get out or was he saying yes because he wanted to see him again? Did it really matter? He decided that whatever the reason, he wasn’t going to question it.

 

Howie was shivering again. It’d only been three days and except for maybe an hour the night before he hadn’t slept since Lance left. The cold had descended again and it just, not even with the work out or the running or the heater on, he was so cold. The shivering was almost permanent, just a constant fine tremor. He didn’t want to be like this, didn’t want this constant cold, this constant sleeplessness. He wanted Lance to come back, keep him warm, let him sleep. He just wanted Lance to hold him.

 

He felt so weak. He was using Lance for the relief he gave him. He was using him because when Lance was there the coldness went away, the shivering stopped, he could sleep. Sleep for a night. All night. He shouldn’t have touched Lance, shouldn’t have let him touch him so closely, so intimate. Now Lance would think he liked him. But he did like him. He’d always liked him, he’d just never thought…never thought Lance was interested. They rarely spoke. He rarely saw him. Despite being label-mates, despite his friendship with Chris. He just never seemed to get to know him.

 

Now he was agreeing to dinner again, a mere three nights later. Was that wrong? He kept coming back to that question. Was what he was doing wrong? Selfish? Did he care enough to do the right thing? What was the right thing? Was staying away from Lance the right thing? But Lance helped him, made him feel better and his kisses. He was so soft, so gentle, so patient. He didn’t know what to do but he wanted to see him again, wanted to touch him, wanted to be touched by him.

 

“Howie?”

“I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

“Did you want me to pick you up?”

“Are you cooking?”

“If you’ll eat Italian I’ll cook for you.”

“I don’t mind.”

Neither a positive or a negative, simply a neutral. Lance was getting used to those. Learning not to push him either way, push for a more direct answer.

“Should I come get you at seven?”

Quiet, a pause.

“I’d like that.”

*    *    *

 

He’d watched Howie shiver through dinner, hadn’t commented or said a word. Just watched him as he ate slowly, measured, talking softly between mouthfuls. The glances he’d given him, the tiny eye flicks as Lance ate and spoke. All he wanted was to get close to him, just melt into him again, feel himself wrapped inside of his arms, held so close to his body.

 

*    *    *

 

Howie melted into the kiss, let Lance guide him back against the center bench, let Lance’s hands caress his face as his lips caressed his lips. Soft, so soft and warm. Howie’s hands resting on his hips, allowing himself to be pushed backwards, lent against the bench and just kissed.

 

“Can I?”

Lance was on his knees this time, Howie’s pants and boxers around his ankles, Lance’s lips hovering over his cock head, tongue laving over it, tasting the pre-cum there and just groaning, so soft and low. Howie’s hips bucked softly, hips rolling out to meet that mouth, that heat, that tongue, those lips. Lance’s lips. He shouldn’t, really shouldn’t but god, he didn’t want this to stop. This heat and warmth and soft, he moaned, elbows resting against the bench top, looking down at Lance as he licked him, round the head and up the tiny slit.

 

He groaned.

“Please, yes…please.”

Lance was staring up at him, green eyes so soft and hungry, he looked hungry. His lips went over the tip again, sealing, closing over him as his tongue slicked over the top, pushed him up and against the roof of his mouth, making him arc and moan. Want more. He wanted more of that. More of this. More of everything, all of it. Lance slid off, licked him up and over, then down again. Sucking softly just below the cock head. Just on that spot that made him go weak, made him moan and sigh and beg. More he just…he wanted…needed so much more.

 

It wasn’t too much right now, right now it wasn’t enough. It’d been so long, so very, god so long that all he could think about was the pleasure. His warm wet mouth ,his soft deft tongue, that hot cavern of his throat, softly sucking him in then releasing him, letting him slide so slowly out then in.

 

He whimpered and reached out. Reached out to him and touched his hair, pushed fingers through it, trying to be gentle, as gentle as Lance was with him but the groan of impatience came pouring out of him. Over his tongue and out his parted lips. Moans of desire. Desire he hadn’t felt for anything, anyone for so long. So, so long.

 

Lance’s hand touched him. Stroked over the fingers in his hair, twined with them and bought them to Howie’s hip. He kept stroking him there, softly over and over again as he moaned, hips rolling, knees starting to weaken. He couldn’t control, couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop.

 

Tongue laving him again, wrapping round the very tip, making him arch, cry out, desperate.

“Lance…”groan, “Oh god Lance…stop…do that and I’ll…”

So breathless but he was sucking again, so soft, slow sliding, taking him in, sliding out. Letting Howie’s hips roll into him, out again. Letting him set the pace, fuck his mouth slowly, softly. Till he was throbbing, surging up hard and fast, breathless. He was going to, so soon, he wanted to wait but he…tongue over the head again.

“Oh god…”

His fingers tightened, holding him so tight. Holding him. Safe.

 

Down again, sinking his mouth onto him, feeling him slide inside, down, groaning around the taste, the slickness, the smoothness, the heat. So much heat.

 

“Lance I…”

And his hips were bucking, cock spilling into him, coming so much again. So much slickness, so much taste, touch, heat. Groaning, moaning, he was moaning so much again. Unable to stop. Unable to do anything but sink down, knees going weak. Letting Lance carry him to the floor, their hands still intertwined. Holding him, letting him pant hot and breathless into his shoulder while Lance’s other hand stroked up his back, over his shoulder so soft and slow, soothing.

“I’m sorry…should have warned.”

“It’s alright, I knew.” Gentle into his ear, pressing kisses there, careful and soft.

“Thank you.”

He squeezed the hand still trapped with his.

“I wanted to.”

He was silent again. Lance slid his hand up into his hair, stroking through silk for a moment then back down to his shoulder. Stroking, barely pausing just soothing him, so softly and slow. Not allowing him to worry about things, just sink into the warmth of it all.

 

Lance held him and he started to doze. Thighs naked and bare, wrapped around with his pants but somehow twined with Lance’s. Warmth again, so much warmth radiating off from him. Hitting Lance with the scent of masculine, heat and taste. He just wanted to touch him, taste him, hold him like this and feel as he relaxed, sank into his body and just started to sleep.

 

He wondered if he should carry him, lift him up and take him to his bedroom. But Howie had never been there. Before tonight he’d never been in his house and it seemed wrong to just presume. Carry him off to his bed when they hadn’t even made it through desert. Just seemed wrong some how to do that when he was finally so relaxed and warm against him, trusting him in that moment not to hurt him, do something he wouldn’t want to happen. He was trusting him. It never occurred to him that that was what Howie was doing. Trusting him each time they did this, each time they touched. Trusting him not to hurt him, trusting him not to push things further, to listen when he said no, stop, no more.

 

It felt good to get that trust but he wondered why. Why was he trusting him? Why not Chris or Kevin or any of the other ‘Boys’? Why him and not them? What had he done that was so worthy of this recognition? All he was, was here, not taking from him just giving him something. Something he obviously needed. Just to let him touch him. But he was taking. Taking something from him, letting Howie touch him. Letting Howie blow him when he really shouldn’t have. Howie was depressed and he really shouldn’t have moved in on him like he did but…he couldn’t regret it. Howie was warm again, the shivering had stopped the moment his arms had slid over his hips, up his back, over his groin. Touching that sleek soft, hard cock.

 

He was warm and he was safe with Lance. Safe and warm and was that too much to want? Too much to crave and need? He didn’t know, just knew that having Lance here, being with Lance. It felt good. Felt good when nothing had ever felt this good. When nothing had felt good in such a long time. He let his breath sigh out softly, trying not to let Lance hear it, trying not to make him worry. But Lance wasn’t worried. He just held him all night, just touched him so softly, kissed him gently. He didn’t try to push or pressure or demand. Didn’t ask so many questions.

 

He was beginning to wonder if Lance knew. Knew about the razor, knew what Kevin had found. If Kevin had called Chris and Lance to check up on him. Was wondering if that was why Lance wanted to stay  that night. If somehow Lance was just trying to make him feel better. And he did but only for a little while, then Lance left and he was alone again and cold again. And no one touched him any more. He was starting to crave it, need it more than ever, feeling so weak for it. Weak for the desperate begging voice that wanted him to call Lance the night that he left. Wanted to call him back when he couldn’t get warm again, couldn’t stop shivering, couldn’t sleep, could barely think straight.

 

And the razor was gone and he just…it was too much. He couldn’t do it. He was just so weak. But he hadn’t called Lance.

 

*    *    *

 

“Howie.”

The voice was soft, so soft and warm against his neck, moving over his shoulder. Pressing a caress to where the shirt was gone and his skin was bare. A thumb brushed over his knuckles, another running through his hair.

“Howie.”

He was so warm, held in his arms even if he was still upright. Still kneeling with his pants tangled round his calves. Fingers squeezed his.

“Howie? Do you want to move?”

He hummed.

“Can…can I take you to my bed?” so soft, unsure.

He paused, slowly nodded. Yes, he wanted that. Wanted to sleep like this, wanted to sleep at all. Just wanted to rest now. Sink down into the warmth with Lance and rest.

“I can’t carry you.” Even softer. “I want to but I can’t…the stairs.”

He blushed, finally pulled away from that amazing warmth, looked up and was met with apple green. Eyes the colour of warm summer days in an orchard.

“I can walk.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to move yet.”

“I can walk.”

Lance smiled and it was gentle.

“I’d carry you if it wasn’t for the stairs.” Fingertips stroking across his cheeks, down to his soft lips.

He felt his own lips twitching in return.

 

It was a lazy smile. Soft. Lips caressing against Lance’s fingertips.

 

*    *    *

 

Lance helped him stand, helped him to his feet as Howie realized he was half undressed. Pants around his ankles with his boxers. Shirt half undone and sliding off one shoulder. Lance was still fully dressed. His pants still on and sealed shut, his shirt with only a few buttons open. For a moment he felt shame, he was mostly naked and Lance wasn’t. He was standing in Lance’s kitchen and suddenly he felt…he was uncomfortable. Quickly he bent down, pulling his pants up, up over his thighs and sealed them shut again except for the belt. He left the belt undone. They were going to bed. Lance was taking him to his bed.

 

It was Lance’s hands that gently pulled the shirt back up over his shoulder, Lance’s nimble fingers that refastened the buttons so he wasn’t almost naked any more. Was comfortable and warm in Lance’s kitchen instead of feeling the cold start to eat at him from the inside, spread out from his chest in vines. Lance stroked his cheek with the back of his hand, soft and warm.

 

“Do you still want to? We could have desert. I made crème brule.”

He made himself push away from the bench top, shift into Lance, into the warmth he felt radiating off from him. Touching him was hard, reaching out and just, laying hands on him without Lance moving to touch him first. Resting his hands on Lance’s hips, sliding them up under his shirt, around his back, over his ass. Just exploring slowly. Lance’s arms were careful, circling his shoulders, sliding down his back and just resting there, waiting. Waiting to see what Howie would do next. Waiting to see what it was that he wanted. Desert or bed.

 

 

“Can we sleep?” quiet.

Lance’s hand stroked his cheek again, down over his neck.

“You look tired.”

Howie couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I want to sleep with you.”

He looked up at that, eyes a little wide staring into Lance’s.

“No, no not like that. I just meant…to sleep. We don’t need to…”

“I am tired.”

An admission of guilt.

“Then we’ll go to bed.”

Howie nodded, rested his head against Lance’s shoulder, breathing into his neck.

He was so tired. Three days without sleep and now all he could think about was his bed, or Lance’s bed, he didn’t care. He just wanted a bed, any bed as long as it meant Lance and warmth and sleep.

 

*    *    *

 

He paused at the bedside. Mattress brushing against his knees. Lance’s arm was low around his waist, gently holding him there. He didn’t seem to be able to move, take that final step and just, climb in, onto the bed, strip off, get under the covers.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Lance sounded so unsure, so quiet.

He shook his head slowly.

“No. I want to stay here.”

He turned to see Lance looking directly at him.

“I’m just so tired.”

Lance smiled, so soft.

“I’m going to lock up, use whatever you want, I have warm clothes in the third draw.”

He’d started to shiver again, just a fine tremor of vibration.

“Thank you.”

Lance leaned over, brushed Howie’s lips with his own, chaste and soft.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, take your time.”

 

*    *    *

 

When he came back Howie was huddled under the blankets, the clothes he’d worn during dinner neatly folded over the back of a chair in the corner. He noticed the third draw slightly askew. Howie had his back to the doorway, curled onto his side and shivering. It was noticeable now. The fine tremor building up to a full blown shivering.

 

He quietly closed the door behind him, headed for the bathroom and quickly took care of his night time routine. Once stripped down to boxers he emerged to stare down at Howie, his eyes were closed but he’d have bet any money that he was still awake. Still awake and the shivering hadn’t stopped. It hadn’t gotten worse but it hadn’t stopped. He paused, slightly unsure which side of the bed he should climb in from. Normally he slept with his back to the door but tonight, with Howie closer to that side he wasn’t sure.

 

Howie shifted to the middle of the bed. Lance hadn’t noticed his eyes opening. Deciding not the over think things he walked around the bed and slid in behind him, immediately pulling him close, his arms tightening and tucking him against his entire front. Howie didn’t protest, didn’t go rigid or still or pull away. If anything he melted, the shivering settling into a soft shudder then ceasing. Lance pressed careful kisses to his neck, feeling Howie’s hand find his in the semi-dark and again he twined them together.

 

He sighed, he couldn’t help it as it just slipped past his lips. He couldn’t stop the way his body melted into Lance’s, the sudden cease of all shivering. He had no control over any of it. He felt weak, his lack of control made him feel so small, so useless, but at the same time he didn’t want that control any more. Didn’t want to try to stop the way his body relaxed into the warmth all around him. The warmth Lance wrapped around him, the way Lance wrapped him in his arms, in his body. It was right. This was right. It just felt so right. Conscience be damned, he couldn’t regret this.

 

“You feel better now?”

His voice careful. Trying not to upset him but Howie was so relaxed against him, so warm for the first time since the kitchen that he doubted much would upset him right now.

 

He sounded far away, low and soft and gentle.

“Howie.”

It was hard to concentrate, he was drifting off already. But he should listen, Lance was asking questions of him. Asking something important. It sounded important. He hummed, so content. Lance’s lips caressed his shoulder, the warmth seeping down through the cotton shirt he’d borrowed from the draw. He shifted closer to Lance and the loose cotton pants slid soft and smooth over his thighs.

 

Lance’s hand released his to stroke over his hip, up under the shirt then down again slowly. His voice was very soft as he tried again.

“Howie?”

“Sleepy.”

Lance chuckled softly.

“You alright now?”

He hummed softly, loving the warmth that ran through him, radiated off and back into Lance to warm him again. A constant cycle, a stream of careful warmth.

 

He seemed calm now. Genuinely calm. Not just the patient calm he’d been over the last few hours, possibly days. He’d seemed calm to Lance the other night, when Chris had tried to annoy the hell out of him and hadn’t succeeded. Had only succeeded in annoying the hell out of Lance. But he knew better now, knew he’d been wrong. That Howie hadn’t been calm, that slight shiver, the constant vibration. It wasn’t just the cold it was something else. Fear or nerves or panic. He didn’t know but he knew it was something. Something other than the cold.

 

He was floating. Drifting off into clouds of heat, warmth. He couldn’t control the drifting, couldn’t stop himself from letting go of everything. Letting go of the cold, the loneliness the constant panic running inside him. The panic he refused to admit existed except in the hour before dawn when he hadn’t slept for days straight and Kevin had taken the razor and nothing worked, nothing helped, nothing made it all just stop. He wanted it to stop. Just stop. Leave him alone, please stop.

 

He felt the tears before he heard himself sniffle. The shudder that ran through him was half jolt of surprise, half shudder of fear. He didn’t want Lance to see this, couldn’t face him if he knew. He was crying, crying because he could have this, if he wanted it he could have this. Even if it was just for a night. He could have this warmth, this company this love. He could have everything he needed, everything he craved.

“Howie?”

Lance sounded concerned. Did he know about the tears? Did he know he was crying? Did he know? Could he understand why or would he just be upset, uncomprehending? He couldn’t show him, couldn’t let him see this.

“Howie?”

He couldn’t reply, couldn’t do anything so he’d know about it all. How depraved he was, the razor, the cutting, the blood.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

He sounded worried but how could he know? He couldn’t see him crying. He started to shiver. Lance held him tighter. He shook his head. No, no he didn’t want to go home. No he didn’t want to be left there, taken home and abandoned to that lonely place where there was no one, no sound, no warmth.

“It’s alright.”

 

Lance didn’t let him go, didn’t pull away or push him, just held him tight. He found Howie’s hand again, twined their fingers together and gripped him for a moment. Squeezing him tight. He pressed dry lips to his shoulder then his neck.

“Go to sleep. It’s alright. I’ll keep you warm.”

“Promise?”

The word just slipped out.

“I promise.” He stroked his thumb across Howie’s fingers. “Go to sleep, you’re warm now.”

And he was warm, the shivering had stopped again. His body slowly relaxing, melting against him again.

 

*    *    *

 

The next morning he remembered kisses, soft and chaste, breath ghosting briefly over his lips then words.

“I’ll be downstairs, go back to sleep.”

Fingers tracing over his jaw, stroking up over his cheek. Another kiss then soft darkness. He was still warm. So warm.

 

*    *    *

 

Lance didn’t talk about last night when Howie met him in the kitchen. Didn’t mention it at all as he reached out and caressed Howie’s face, breathing soft kisses over his lips. Soft kisses then gentle ones when he was sure Howie was really awake and wouldn’t mind that much.

 

He tasted of sweet coffee and toast, a hint of bitter oranges when he licked inside his mouth. Howie found himself sinking into his arms, kissing him deeper as Lance didn’t pull away, didn’t try to stop him as he pushed against him, forced him to step backwards into kitchen cupboards.

 

He knew what he wanted and it didn’t involve the kitchen. He preferred the bedroom but when he’d finally woken Lance was already gone. Regardless of where they were he had every intention of going ahead with what he wanted anyway, sliding a hand down Lance’s naked chest and easing it into his loose pants. Lance groaned, bit lightly at his lower lip, hips bucking and rolling into him. It was the work of minutes to work his way down, allowing himself the time to sink to his knees slowly, teasing and tasting as he went.

 

Once on his knees he eased the cotton out of the way, sliding it down his legs to bare his cock to his lips. Lance whimpered, begged softly for him to taste him, engulf him, anything. So he did, letting his lips part and widen, feeling his tongue dash out, roll over the leaking fluid and make Lance whimper. Another whimper and he finally let it slip into him, past his lips and slide down against his throat. The whimper turned to a groan and he could almost smile around him. Almost feel the pleasure as he moaned with Lance in his mouth.

 

Lance’s hands were white. The knuckles tense and fixed to the bench behind him. He wasn’t going to touch him this time, wasn’t going to try to touch his hair, that spill of satin and silk curls. He was just going to have to find some control and…His hips rolled, hands flying out for purchase, anything but the bench behind him. Groaning. Contact with black silk brought him back to himself, forced his control to bring his hips back, his hands onto the bench again. He could do this, he could let Howie suck him. Suck him so slowly, so teasing, so soft and hot and…He whimpered, biting into his lip and praying for guidance, for help, for anything to stop himself from spilling into that angel mouth.

 

Howie was taking his time again. Indulging in this one vice. Allowing himself to just taste him, feel the cock as it slid into his throat as he sucked him. So soft at first then firmer, harder as he pulled back onto the tip. Then stroking, forcing himself to just release him, let go and just take him into his throat, down into his body as far as it could go before Lance cried out and groaned and whimpered and begged for mercy, for more, for anything. Just more of him.

 

Quick sucking strokes, hard and fast and short, watching Lance’s head fall back, his hips jerk forward, his fingers clench. Then stopping again. Teasing back to taste him. Sucking over the tip, down the side, just under the head. Finding every sensitive spot and making him groan from above. Lance’s fingers twisted in his hair, making Howie moan quietly, groan and sigh when he couldn’t control Lance’s cock fucking him. For a moment he’d get nothing but slick hard sliding, in, out. Deep, deeper till Lance pulled back, pleading, apologizing, begging for him to just god please do what he wanted, whatever he wanted it felt so good.

 

He took mercy after a half hour, his mouth bruised, knees sore. Cock throbbing and hard. Aching for him to just take it in his own hand and relieve the pressure building up down there. His balls rocking against his palm when he let his hand grip them softly. Lance was watching he realized. Watching him touch himself through the cotton pants, watching him rub and stroke his cock slowly, letting the pleasure build slowly, steadily even as Lance’s own cock was being sucked and stroked.

 

He couldn’t…couldn’t…god…Howie’s knees spread, thighs apart, hand drifting down, slowly down, stroking down. He was going to he was sure, Howie was going to…he jerked hard and fast unable to stop. He was going to, he was going to…Howie’s cock slid into sight, slick with pre-cum and dripping. He couldn’t, oh…oh god…Eyes, so beautiful, so brown. Open eyes. He couldn’t help the hand in his hair but he didn’t seem to mind.

 

Howie moaned, eyes sliding closed, hand on his dick stroking.

“I can’t…” whimpering desperate. “Howie!”

Howie pulled back, just licking at the tip.

“Not yet.”

He wasn’t ready yet. Wanted to watch him, feel him come when his own cock got off.

Frustrated groan, Lance’s head back on his shoulders, teeth stabbed into his lip, blood. Bruises. He wanted to lick those bruises.

 

His tongue flickered. Darting into the slit, over the tip and across the entire head. He made Lance buck, jerk, the hand in his hair tighten, all as he jerked himself off, tasted Lance on his tongue and moaned at the feel of it all. When his eyes opened Lance was watching him again, lips parted, groans harsh and hot, breath shallow and rapid.

“Please…god. Please.”

He shuddered, cock close, so close now, wrapping his mouth around Lance and just sucking him, deep and hard and fast and endless. Over and over. His own cock twitching in sympathy, rolling into his hand, rocking hard and random.

 

He was going to, he could feel it, he was going to.

 

Lance cried, mouth open, body arching, cock throbbing and finally god finally. He was sobbing, screaming, spilling god it hurt. Hurt so good and so painful, rushing through him so hard, so fast and…He groaned. Knees weak, he couldn’t stand.

 

Howie was whimpering breathless, mouth full he was coming. Into him, inside of him. His cock exploding, smearing over his hand as he push, pulled on it, groaned as it spilled out of him.

 

*    *    *

 

 

Floating. He was floating. Warmth laying next to him, radiating heat against him, into him. So warm. Not cold. Perfect warmth. He groaned softly. Trying to remember why he hurt. Trying to remember why he was asleep on the kitchen floor. A twin groan and he opened his eyes to see Lance roll closer, drape an arm over his stomach. His now very sticky stomach. He moved to tell him stop, no, don’t, but Lance was already snuggling closer. How long had they slept?

 

His flight! Oh god! He’d forgotten about his flight! He looked around desperate, trying to find a clock, watch, anything. Eventually finding Lance’s watch. 10:45am. He sighed in relief. He had hours before his flight.

“What’s wrong?”

Lance was awake, blinking at him, eyes clear and not hazy, not looking like he’d just woken up. Looking more like he’d been awake the entire time. Just snuggling up to Howie now because he was awake.

 

He blushed. Red flushing up and over his cheeks. Lance’s lips brushed his damp ones, tongue darting out to clean the stain at the corner of his mouth. Then he pulled away again, laying on his side with Howie’s head cushioned against his arm.

 

Confusion. He wasn’t sure how he felt. What he should feel. What he was supposed to be feeling. Lance was looking at him, just watching.

 

“Do you want breakfast?” quiet.

He swallowed, glanced around the room.

“Do you still have the crème brule?”

“You want crème brule for breakfast?”

He blushed again.

“We can have crème brule is you want.”

Lance was smiling. Not looking at him like he was a freak. Like he was disturbed. Like he’d noticed Howie crying last night.

 

Lance wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure if he should say something, do something. Howie looked so uncomfortable. The same way he’d looked last night when he’d stood and discovered he was almost completely undressed. But he was dressed this time. There wasn’t any obvious thing he could do, no buttons this time which he could refasten and make Howie comfortable again. But he did have crème brule and even though it was a little odd, if Howie wanted crème brule for breakfast, Lance would get him crème brule for breakfast.

 

He was reluctant to move though. Worried. Scared that the moment he moved Howie would pull away. Not just physically but…could he call it emotionally? Was what they were doing an emotional thing? Or was it just a physical one? But last night, in bed, the fact Howie had let him take him to his bed, had crawled in and let him spoon against him. Had let him hold him. That wasn’t just a physical thing. He knew they were friends. They’d known each other for years through Chris but…they weren’t good friends. It wasn’t a normal thing for him to just sleep with someone else. Wasn’t normal for him to stay the night with a man. Men didn’t usually stay the night at all.

 

He stroked a hand down Howie’s stomach and he shivered, blushed again. Shivering. Shivering was bad. He didn’t want Howie to shiver. Didn’t want him to be uncomfortable but he didn’t know what else to do. Didn’t know how to fix things. Maybe things had moved too fast. Maybe Howie was having second thoughts about why he’d spent the night with him. Maybe Howie didn’t want to spend the night and now just wanted to leave and get as far away as possible. Maybe he was worrying about this too much.

 

“I should…shower.”

He wouldn’t meet his eyes. Wouldn’t look up at him. Was looking anywhere and everywhere but at him. Then a quick eye flick, a quick glance as he shifted away.

“Would you mind?” so quiet, shivering again.

“No. I’ll show you where the towels are. Do you want me to?” he trailed off and Howie finally looked at him, frowning.

“To?” he was so soft, quiet.

“Take you home after.”

He was looking away again. Not looking at him at all again. Lance stared at the floor. He didn’t see as Howie reached out, covered his hand with his own. Only felt the warmth fold over his fingers.

“My flight’s this afternoon. I don’t have to leave yet.”

Surprise. Smiling. Lance couldn’t help smiling at him.

“I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Crème brule?” an indecipherable expression.

Lance smiled harder.

“If that’s what you want I’ll warm up the brule.”

Howie leant towards him, brushing his lips over Lance’s.

“I have a craving now.”

Lance’s hand brushed over his cheek, lips caressing. A moment and they were kissing. Soft and slow, but Howie was still shivering, a fine tremor which didn’t seem to leave. He pulled away again.

“I need to shower.”

He was standing, watching as Lance stood, tentatively taking his hand then when he didn’t pull away, leading him towards the bathroom.

 

Howie stripped the moment his feet hit tiles. Shirt off over his head, hands at his hips easing the pants down slowly. Lance gaped, staring, swallowing hard. Howie was naked before he realized Lance was still standing there, staring at him.

 

Caught. Howie was watching him watch. He didn’t seem to be able to tear his eyes off his toned body, those abs which despite every attempt Lance just never seemed to get. Stomach rippling slowly as he bent over to pull the pants from round his ankles then stand again. Soft brown eyes, mouth smiling softly at him as he flushed crimson, stuttered.

“I’m sorry…didn’t…didn’t mean…to stare, watch…I mean…I should just…”

His lips were twitching upwards in a broader smile.

“I don’t mind.”

Lance swallowed hard. He wanted to touch, to taste. It’d been barely an hour and he wanted to touch him again, wanted to just fall to his knees and worship that body. He blushed harder.

 

Howie turned away, slipped into the shower and turned on the water. He didn’t seem to mind Lance’s staring. Didn’t try to hide himself or…he didn’t get shy, didn’t get uncomfortable here, just…stood there, half under the water whilst Lance stared. Watched him tilt his head back, let the water pour down his chest, over his stomach. His hands sliding over there, soap and water combining, washing away the come. Lance blinked, something finally making sense.

 

Howie had been uncomfortable about the come. About the fact he was still covered in it. That he’d gotten himself off in front of Lance probably. He had to admit it was pretty hot, watching Howie’s hand stroke himself, watching his hips rise and rock and feeling him groan around his cock whilst he did that. He blinked and realized he was still staring and as much as Howie didn’t seem to mind, he probably shouldn’t. Should probably go…yes…go…do…something.

 

His head was tilting down, water running through his hair, warm and gentle. Warmth. The shivering seemed to be slowly dissipating. Seemed to be going away again. Leaving him warm and content. Now that the come was gone, now that he was warm under the shower. Now that he’d seen Lance get so utterly distracted by the mere sight of him naked. He tilted his head back again, heard Lance’s sharp intake of breath and he smiled. Actually smiled. Happy. He’d forgotten what that was like. To feel this happiness. How good it felt to have someone watch him, just watch him as he did something so mundane, so simple and find it so hot and distracting.

 

He couldn’t help the gasp. Howie’s hands were deliberately trailing down his chest, over his stomach, across his abs, cupping his cock. He tried to swallow and found his mouth dry. He should…breakfast…He continued to watch as Howie let himself go, reached for a face washer and started to soap up. He had to know, had to know Lance was watching, was just staring, hadn’t left the bathroom at all. Hadn’t found him a towel yet. Hadn’t remembered he’d need his clothes when he was done.

 

Done soaping up, making himself slick with it, tiny bubbles bursting over his ass and thighs. Abs rippling again as he bent over, washed down each leg then up again.

 

Breakfast. Towel. Clothes. Yes…he had things to do…things he should be doing. Things that didn’t involve staring at Howie naked and wet and slick with soap. He groaned. Later. He could indulge in…well maybe not later but…right now, he had things to do. If he was lucky later. Hopefully later. God he hoped for later.

 

*    *    *

 

Howie found a towel and his clothes when he slid out of the shower. He knew Lance had left some time ago but he’d let himself take his time. Let himself enjoy the warmth and the memory of that attention. Of knowing Lance was watching him. Lance was enjoying watching him. He sailed through the warmth of it all, the happiness. How long it’d been since someone had looked at him like that, without any ulterior motive, just watching him for pure lust didn’t matter right now. Lance had watched him for the pure enjoyment of seeing him naked. Lance was what mattered. Lance who was making him crème brule for breakfast just because he said he had a craving. Not for any other reason than that.

 

He smiled as he re-buttoned his shirt over his chest. Smiled as he slid into his pants and zipped himself closed. He was happy. The shivering had finally stopped. Stopped somewhere between Lance staring or Lance gasping or Lance finally wandering away distracted. He grinned. Lance had been very distracted. He’d forgotten, god how much had he forgotten.

 

Lance was poking at the stove when he found his way back to the kitchen, and it was easy to slide in behind him, slip his arms around his waist and just mold himself to his back. Easy to plant soft kisses to his shoulders, the back of his neck. So easy to stroke over the skin under his shirt, the sliver of skin just beneath the waist band of his jeans. Lance gasped again. Soft and low. Almost a moan. He pressed a final kiss to his shoulder and laid his cheek against his shirt.

 

“Better?”

“Much.” He tightened his arms, letting Lance twine the fingers of one hand with his. “Thank you.”

“Sorry for staring.” He could feel his blush under the shirt.

Howie couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I told you. I don’t mind. Thank you.”

“For staring?”

“I liked watching you look at me.”

“You’re beautiful.” So soft.

He blushed, flushing red. Lance turned in his arms, letting his hand go to look down at him, look down into his up turned face.

 

He couldn’t help but stare again. Howie’s hair was flat against his head, curls trailing over his shoulders, still damp. His eyes were fairly sparkling at him, mouth turned up in a smile. Soft, so soft those lips, that mouth. His hand raised instinctively, stroked over his face. Howie’s eyes closed, soft sigh of pleasure passing through his parted lips, face turning into Lance’s caress. Ghosting breath then lips, soft and gentle. Kiss brief and chaste. Arm looping round Howie’s waist, pulling him against him, into his warmth. Another kiss, this time over his cheek.

 

*    *    *

 

Lance fed him the brule, watching as Howie’s lips parted for the morsel, his tongue darting out to lick at any lingering sweetness. His eyes closed the entire time between first taste and new bite. When his eyes opened Lance couldn’t help but stare. Brown, softer and clearer than chocolate. Something earthy and alive, captivating. And he was smiling, couldn’t seem to stop smiling at Lance. His hands resting on Lance’s hips, fingers stroking up and under his shirt, over the soft skin there. Bathing in the warmth from his closeness. Their bodies still pressed together at the groin as Lance fed him.

 

It wasn’t until the end that Lance could actually touch him, his body pressed into him but his hands taken up with brule and the spoon he used to feed him. He was surprised it hadn’t turned sexual, the way they stood, the closeness of their cocks and yet…he hadn’t gotten hard watching Howie do something so obviously sexual. Watching his lips part, his mouth moan around the taste, his tongue darting out to lick away all traces of sweetness. It was more than sexual it was just…blatant but…he hadn’t gotten hard. Hadn’t wanted to take the brule away and just kiss him, make him make those noises whilst he touched him. He’d enjoyed feeding him his breakfast on a completely other level. It’d felt good. Not just physically good or visually but…something else. Something else he didn’t have time for as Howie stared up at him smiling and licking over his lips in a final clean sweep.

 

“That was good.”

Lance nodded, a little speechless and Howie finally ducked his head a little, blushing.

“Sorry but you…that was nice.” Lance’s voice bashful.

Eyes again, the smile softer this time.

“Yes, it was.”

“Are you still hungry?”

A slight head shake.

“How about you?”

“I ate earlier.”

“You should have woken me. I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”

Lance shrugged.

“You were tired. I always get up early. Thought you could use the rest.”

A slight blush as he glanced away.

 

How much had Lance figured out? Had he already noticed that Howie didn’t sleep without him? Did it really matter if when he was with Lance, Lance just let him sleep, held him and didn’t comment. Judge. How could Lance know though, Lance probably just thought he worked too hard, just like Kevin thought. Or did Kevin think that at all? One visit from Kevin and suddenly he had Chris and Lance in his life. More than just a quick phone call, more than just a random dinner once in six months.

 

Suddenly Chris was taking him to dinner a mere two nights after he’d been to his house for dinner. And Lance. Lance who stayed with him that first night. Who took him out to breakfast and even paid for the two of them. Lance who three nights later invited him over to his house for dinner and once again…ended up spending a night with him. All after Kevin found the razor blade. So did Kevin really believe he was alright? Or had Kevin called Chris and told him?

 

But Chris had set up dinner weeks before Kevin had visited. Did that mean he had spoken to Kevin after Kevin had visited? Normally he’d have scoffed at the idea. Chris and Kevin talking to each other without dire consequences. Unless they thought he was a dire consequence of some sort. Did they think that? Was that why Lance was here? Had they sent him? Did Lance know about the razor?

 

Did it really matter? Did he really care?

 

“Howie?” so soft, unsure again.

“Hmm?” he met his eyes again.

“Everything alright?”

“I was thinking.”

“Do you want to share?”

“I was wondering why you’re here.”

Lance went still all a sudden.

“Oh.”

“Did Kevin talk to you?”

He frowned, genuine puzzlement that made Howie feel a little better.

“No, I haven’t heard from Kevin in…” he frowned. “A year or so.”

“Did…” he didn’t really want to ask, didn’t really want to know now.

Didn’t want to know that the only reason Lance was here was out of some duty or pity or because Chris had told him to take care of him. Lance swallowed nervous.

“Chris was worried about you.”

He stared at the floor.

“Oh.”

Lance searched for words, a way to explain that didn’t make it sound like the only reason he’d asked Howie to stay and to dinner was Chris’s concern.

“I’ve um…” he blushed. “I’ve sort of…had a crush on you.”

There. That was the truth.

 

Howie frowned, stared up at Lance, trying to see if he was lying.

“You.” He blinked. “Had a crush. On me.”

Lance blushed harder.

“Yeah…for…awhile now.”

“How long?”

He bit his lip.

“Years.”

Howie’s eyes went wide.

“Years?” so soft.

Lance nodded, trying to decipher Howie’s expression. Was it really that surprising for someone to have a crush on him? Exactly how long had it been since Howie had dated?

“I never…I mean…” Howie blushed.

“I didn’t…well…only Chris knew.”

Howie frowned. How exactly did Chris fit into this?

“So he…set you…us up?”

Lance cringed.

“Um…maybe. Probably.”

“Oh.” He looked thoughtful.

 

Lance wasn’t sure what he was thinking. What was going through Howie’s mind. If Howie thought Chris was just setting him up because he thought Howie needed someone or because he knew Lance liked him or…No. He had no idea what Howie was thinking. Hell he had no idea what Chris was really thinking either. He only knew Howie was depressed. Really depressed and he was worried about him. They both were. Chris and him. And he wanted to take care of Howie, but it went further than that. He cared about Howie. He lusted after Howie. He loved the way Howie looked, sounded. Couldn’t stop himself from touching him. Even now. Just letting his hands rest on Howie’s hips, Howie’s hands on his hips, sliding up and under his shirt. Howie wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t taking his hands away. Was standing still and thinking. He looked thoughtful. Not worried or angry, just thoughtful.

 

“I just…I don’t want you to think that…I’m only here because Chris was worried.”

Howie looked up again, into his eyes, brown meeting with green. Clear and crisp but soft.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For telling me….about Chris. That he was worried.”

“He loves you Howie, you know Chris.”

“So he asked you to come to dinner.”

Quiet, sighing.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you came.”

Shock. He hadn’t expected. Had thought for a moment that Howie, that he’d be upset, would think…he hadn’t expected that. A definitive. He didn’t get many of those. Mostly Howie was just…general. He wanted breakfast but wouldn’t say if he really wanted Lance with him. It was…surprising that he was happy Lance was with him.

 

“Does…does that mean you’re…not. I mean. I like you. I like being with you.”

Howie blushed, smiling softly.

“I like being with you…and I like you Lance. I’m not just…it’s not just that you’re here.”

“Good.”

He kissed him softly.

“Good.”

Howie was soft but kissing him deeper, pulling him closer, tongue sliding against his, warm and sweet. Hot. The kisses just seemed to melt, one into the other till Lance finally pulled away, a little breathless.

“I should drive you home. Your flight.”

“I already packed.”

“Can I…would you let me drive you to the airport.”

Another smile.

“I’d really like that. Thank you.”

“If you like, I could pick you up when you get back. Save you catching a cab.” Offering.

“I’ll call you.”

Back to undefined.

“Alright.”

 

*    *    *

 

He was cold again. So damn cold. Shivering and he couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t had any sleep since he’d gotten to Chicago. Two nights, no sleep. He had another three nights here. Call Lance, he could call Lance, but would that help? Would that make Lance worry? Was Lance worried? He knew. He knew something. Perhaps didn’t know about the razor but he knew something. Knew he was, well knew whatever Kevin and Chris thought was wrong with him. But he didn’t want them to know something was wrong. Didn’t want Kevin to worry or check up or…he just didn’t want that. Didn’t want it from Kevin, didn’t want it from Chris. Did he want it from Lance? Would it be so bad if Lance worried about him? Lance knew something was wrong but…he didn’t…didn’t seem to worry or check up on him or…anything. He just…he was there. Whenever Howie wanted to touch him, be held by him, kiss him, curl up with him because he was cold. Lance just seemed to…be. There.

 

Lance didn’t push or ask questions. Lance was just…perfect. He didn’t deserve perfect. He didn’t deserve someone like Lance who was so patient and…sweet and calm and…perfect. But he didn’t seem to be able to stop. Didn’t seem to be able to push Lance away and just…say no to him. Say no when he offered to drive him to the airport, pick him up when he got home. Couldn’t say no because even though he knew he had to be at least a little careful, if they got caught together people would start asking questions, he couldn’t say no because Lance thought about that and dropped him off in the underground car park far away from prying eyes.

 

Lance had driven him home, waited whilst he did last minute packing, locked up his house. His cold, silent, lifeless house. He locked up his house, made sure the security system was armed whilst Lance just waited patiently for him. Lance hadn’t asked questions about the entire case of Aveda products, hadn’t commented on the bi-carb soda toothpaste, hadn’t said a word. Had just let him move around getting things and locking windows and the entire time he’d just watched him. Watched him move, watched him pack, stared when he’d bent over to change his shoes. Had blushed so hard when he’d been caught staring. Which Howie could only smile at because it was so obvious he couldn’t stop staring and he liked that. Liked it a lot.

 

But now he was sitting in a hotel room, meetings, work for the day finished and he just…couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get warm. Had tried everything. Had worked out for three hours in the hotel gym, had jogged around the city despite the late hour. Late or early, it really depended on peoples opinions. It was 4am. He was cold. He couldn’t sleep. He missed Lance.

 

Missed his fingers twined with his, missed his body pressed against his back, missed his warmth, his kisses, his crème brule breakfast. He missed Lance and he hated it. He shouldn’t be missing him. Not right now. Not after only two dates. Not after a few blow jobs and a hand job. He just…he shouldn’t. It was wrong. But it’d felt so good. Felt right.

 

Lance had a crush on him. Lance had been crushing on him for years. He liked Lance. Wanted to get to know Lance. Had always wanted to know more about Lance. Had watched him dance more than once, watched him sing and thought he wouldn’t mind sleeping with him. It was a lust thing. He knew that. Knew that back then it’d just been lust but now…now it was…something else. Now it was almost…need? Was it need? Did he need Lance? No…he could function, he did business without him, got up every morning and ate and worked out and lived. No…he didn’t need Lance, but he wanted him. Wished he was here now. Wished he could get warm without him. Sleep alone in bed without him.

 

He rubbed his eyes, slid out of bed and walked to the window. It was quiet outside. He had slept on the plane. That much he’d managed but he hadn’t slept since he’d arrived. He’d managed to stay warm for almost 24 hours…but now he was shivering. He pressed buttons on the air conditioning remote, turning the heat up yet again, even as he pulled out the bath robe and wrapped himself in it.

 

The view was pretty, even in the dark he could see Lake Michigan from the balcony. The water dark and glittering with lights. He leaned against the glass door, sighing softly over the glass, watching it mist then fade again to clear. He shivered, shuddered. It was dark inside his room, the lights out, even the bed side lamp. Everything was painted black and white with so many shades of grey. Wrapped in darkness. He padded back towards the bed, turned on the lamp. It sprung to life with light. Gold spreading out over the bed, the tussled sheets. Black turning to dark blue blankets with powder blue sheets. The grey carpet revealed as blue grey. The glass turned reflective and he could see himself standing there.

 

His hair pulled back, slick from his shower but masses of curls springing up at the back. He ran his hand through it and that was all it took, curls springing up all over the top and front, another rub and the sides sprung to life. Curls, so many of them. They used to bother him, made him feel girlish at a time when all he wanted was to feel like a man. Now…now he kind of liked them, had learned to accept them as part of his heritage. Lance seemed to like it…it felt good when his fingers slid through them.

 

He let his fingers slide down over the trimmed beard. It slid down his jaw line and framed his lower lip and chin. It was something he’d learned from AJ, something they’d both liked. Another thing Lance seemed to like.

 

Sighing he let his hand drop. Why did everything seem to come back to Lance tonight? Was it just because he was cold? The shivering actually seemed to have calmed down a little now that he was up. Was it the fact he’d gotten up or the fact he was thinking about Lance? Did he think about Lance because he couldn’t sleep? Was it just lack of sleep, did he only think about Lance because when he was with him he was warm and could sleep? Were his feelings based purely on that?

 

His image in the glass was blurring. It was getting harder to see straight. He needed to sleep. Would calling Lance be such a bad thing? Would he start to seriously worry? Would he be annoyed if he called him this early? He rubbed finger tips into his eyes trying to clear them. Tomorrow. If he didn’t get any sleep tonight, or during the day. He’d call him tomorrow.

 

*    *    *

 

Lance wasn’t home. He hadn’t called him. Despite the fact he hadn’t slept that night, morning or during that day. He hadn’t called him, had just gone for another jog in a vain hope of pushing his body over into fatigue. Hopefully a fatigue that would just let him go to bed and pass out. But it hadn’t worked. Unlike previous times it just didn’t work. Then again when he’d tried to do this before it had been months since he’d had a decent nights sleep. He’d had too much full sleep in the last week for it to work now.

 

He cursed Lance. His flight was early next morning. He could call Lance’s cell but…he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to catch him at home. But Lance wasn’t at home. Lance was out somewhere and he couldn’t talk to him. Couldn’t listen to his voice and pray that it would be enough and he could get some sleep before his flight. Maybe he should call back later. He’d left a message. Told him his flight number and the time it came in tomorrow. Let him know that unless he heard back he’d just catch a cab, it was no trouble.

 

He wondered if Lance was out, out on a date. How would he know? He didn’t know anything about Lance. Just that Lance was attracted to him. He cursed himself and went out to dinner.

 

*    *    *

 

Lance appeared at the airport.

“I didn’t get in till really late. I’m so sorry. I tried calling this morning but your cell was already off.”

Howie just stared at him.

“Do…do you still want a ride home?” he was fidgeting nervous.

“I could have caught a cab.”

“I’m sorry Howie.” He sounded so genuine.

Howie sighed. He wanted to be pissed, wanted to be angry but he just didn’t have the energy. He was shivering and he hadn’t slept. Not even on the plane. He couldn’t stop wondering where Lance had been, if Lance was seeing someone. Someone else. Not him.

“We should go.”

Lance glanced around. It was only six in the morning but Howie was right, it would start rumors if they were seen together.

“Do you want a hand?” he gestured at Howie’s luggage.

“I can manage.”

Lance winced. Howie realized he wasn’t perfect. Maybe he liked that better.

 

“I really am sorry Howie. I just…it was late when I got in. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should have called me.”

“I know and I’m sorry.”

They were driving down the freeway towards Howie’s house. Howie sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, pressing fingertips into them. He was just so tired. So damn tired. Maybe now he could just collapse from exhaustion. He’d dozed off for about an hour or two very early this morning but it hadn’t been enough. Nowhere near enough.

They pulled into Howie’s drive way and Lance didn’t turn the car off, just let it run, unsure what Howie would want.

“Do you want coffee?”

“Are you sure?”

Howie groaned.

“Come in Lance I’m not mad at you any more.”

“But you were.”

“You should have called me. I didn’t sleep.”

He stopped suddenly, hadn’t meant to say that. He stilled, tried to not shiver for a moment and prayed Lance would assume he meant last night.

 

Lance winced. He couldn’t say sorry again. He’d said it so many times in the last half hour he was sure Howie was sick of hearing it. Instead he turned the car off.

“I’ll get your case, you get the door.”

“Pushy.” But he was already climbing out of the car and heading for the door.

Lance smiled wryly and got Howie’s suitcase out of the back. It seemed heavier than when he’d dropped him off.

“You do shopping?” he raised an eye brow.

“Paper work.”

“Ouch. So no shopping?”

Howie rolled is eyes.

“If you want shopping talk to AJ. He’s the one that can’t resist shopping in every single city he stops in.”

 

He headed inside, looking around as he passed through the entrance, pass the lounge and into the kitchen, checking to make sure nothing was out of place. He’d come home once years ago to find a back window broken and some photo’s missing. Nothing major, probably just a fan who’d gotten overzealous. He’d gotten security and it hadn’t happened again.

 

Lance followed carrying his luggage so he moved to the coffee maker and started it up. Lance just watched him as he grabbed beans from the fridge and put them through a grinder.

“It’s decaf.” He warned.

Lance smiled.

“The last thing you need is caffeine.”

Howie turned away, didn’t want Lance to see just how true that was, was worried that Lance had even mentioned it. Did Lance know? Did he realize what he hadn’t meant to say? Did he knew he hadn’t slept the entire time he’d been away? Five days without sleep.

 

He frowned as he watched Howie turn away from him. What did he say that bothered Howie so much? Was he just turning away to fix something with the grinder or the beans? Or had he said something that upset Howie? All he’d said was…he stopped. The way he’d gone still in the car, his reaction to the caffeine comment. Had Howie gotten any sleep? As in, the whole time he’d been gone. Was that what Howie meant?

Then there was the fact Howie hadn’t touched him since he’d met him at the air port. Hadn’t even said hello. Just. He was distant. He understood he was angry about the fact he hadn’t called but…he was…had he changed his mind? Decided he didn’t want to be physical any more? Had he ever wanted to be? Had he just thought that was what Howie wanted when he’d said he liked Lance too? He watched him now and didn’t know what to do. If he should touch Howie, hug him hello now they were alone or just…wait for Howie to come to him.

 

Howie was putting the beans back in the fridge, the grinds into the coffee maker.

“It’ll take awhile. Are you hungry? I think I have a few things…” he trailed off as he noticed Lance staring at him.

“I ate before I left.”

Silence. Awkward silence as they stared at each other.

 

“Where were you?”

Lance frowned.

“Do you mean last night?”

Howie nodded wondering why he’d asked. He didn’t want to know. Not if he’d been out with someone else. Dating someone other than him.

“JC did a charity concert. I haven’t seen him for months. We got caught up and it was after three before I got in again.”

Relief. He didn’t think he’d ever been more relieved.

“Why?” Lance frowned. “I mean…I know I should have called but…”

Howie blushed softly, staring at the ground. He heard Lance come closer, felt his hand rest on his hip over his shirt. A patch of warmth amongst all the cold.

“Were you…did you…” Lance took a breath and started again. “You thought I was out with someone?” soft question, not angry, not annoyed, just soft.

Howie’s bottom lip vanished into teeth as he nodded.

 

Surprise, amazement, shock. He reached up to brush fingertips over his jaw, down across his bottom lip. Wanting him to look up at him, let him look into those brown eyes he’d missed seeing.

“There isn’t anyone else.”

He looked up at that.

“I wasn’t sure.”

“Now you know.” Quiet.

Why hadn’t he just asked? Lance sighed, cupping Howie’s face in his hands.

“You just had to ask.”

He let his hands slide down to his throat, stroking softly downwards then over his shoulders. So small.

“I’m all yours.” He swallowed. “If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know.” So quiet, soft.

“I’d tell you if I was seeing someone else.”

Howie looked away. Lance sighed.

 

“Coffee’s made.”

Howie pulled away. Moving towards the coffee mugs and sugar. Grabbing milk out of the fridge. He made them both coffee and they didn’t speak again except about the coffee. Lance leaned against the kitchen table. He watched Howie for a moment. Watched him shiver, tremble and almost spill his coffee when he shuddered.

“Do you want me to stay?” so quiet, unsure how the question would be taken.

Howie wouldn’t look at him, stared into his coffee.

“Please.” Soft and barely audible.

 

He couldn’t help himself. Lance had offered and he just…couldn’t say no. Couldn’t stop himself from saying yes. Even though he knew Lance was going to worry, Lance was probably already worried now. He couldn’t stop shivering, it was hard to keep the coffee from spilling up and over his hands. He had to stop, had to sit, needed to sleep. Was so desperate for sleep.

 

“We could watch a movie.”

Howie smiled and shivered.

“I’ll probably fall asleep.”

He glanced up to see Lance shrug.

“I don’t mind.”

Howie headed for the lounge room.

 

*    *    *

 

All it took was five minutes. Five minutes, Lance wrapping him in the throw again, pulling him down into his arms, kissing his temple and just stroking his curls. Five minutes. Not even long enough to see the beginning of the movie and he was asleep.

 

*    *    *

 

Lance felt Howie drift off. Listened as his breathing evened out, deepened, quiet and slow. Felt Howie relax into his body and just stop shivering. Five minutes into the movie and he was beyond all waking. Didn’t stir when Lance tugged the throw tighter around him. Didn’t even stir when he wrapped an arm around him and slid a hand under his shirt, stroking him softly, slowly up and down his back, his other hand resting in his hair. Satin, silk curls.

 

The movie played on and Howie just slept. It was hours, so many hours later, the movie finished and another half done before he even stirred. And even then he didn’t really wake, just shifted and snuggled closer, breathing into Lance’s neck for a moment before laying his head down on his chest and drifting off again.

 

Another three hours and Lance fell asleep with him. Drifting off under the weight of Howie, stroking lazy lines up and down his back, humming to the TV jingles. His eyes sunk closed and it was just too easy to let himself relax into the sofa and sleep.

 

He was the first to wake, hours later. Past lunch, his stomach rumbling and he wondered for a moment how Howie could sleep through the sounds it was making. He’d barely eaten that morning, in such a rush to get to the airport and pick Howie up, apologize for not calling ahead. He’d felt so bad. But he hadn’t caught up with JC for months and it was just so easy to loose time when he was with him. To forget about everything else and just talk. He and Chris could do the same thing, a habit left over from Europe but he saw Chris fairly often. JC on the other hand had been touring and promoting and too busy for a face to face conversation.

 

He’d cringed at the message at three am. Wanted to ring Howie then but didn’t want to wake him. Thought he’d have worked hard the entire time he’d been away and wouldn’t want to be disturbed. That and he was surprised he hadn’t called his cell. Lance had given him both numbers and told him to use either. It wasn’t like…he frowned. He didn’t know why he hadn’t used the cell number. Perhaps he’d gotten side tracked as well. But no. Howie had said he hadn’t slept. The stab of guilt hit again. He was obviously exhausted. He needed to sleep. But instead he’d stayed awake. Stayed awake or couldn’t sleep? He still wasn’t sure but he was starting to think Howie didn’t sleep that much, at least not alone. And if he wasn’t with him then, he was obviously alone.

 

He slid out from under Howie carefully, being as careful as he could not to wake him. He didn’t stir, still dead to the world. He knelt by the couch for a moment just watching him, hand automatically reaching out and stroking through his hair. He stirred at that but didn’t wake. Curled himself tighter around the pillow Lance had put under his head but didn’t wake. He leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to his temple, gently stroked his shoulder.

“I’ll be back.”

 

*    *    *

 

He knew a good sandwich place near Howie’s house so he went there. Picking up enough for himself and Howie if, when he woke. It took him a moment staring at Howie’s keys before he decided to borrow them, lock Howie’s house up when he went and hope he didn’t wake up while he was gone. When he returned he knew he shouldn’t have worried. Howie was still asleep, wrapped around the pillow on the couch. He didn’t look like he’d moved since Lance had slid out from under him.

 

After another hour, half way through another movie Lance started to worry. Howie had been asleep for over eight hours. Probably hadn’t eaten in over ten. He knew he hadn’t slept in at least forty-eight hours but…he needed to eat.

 

*    *    *

 

Warmth. A hand shaking his shoulder gently. Another hand trailing through his curls.

“Howie.” So soft, gentle.

He sighed, relaxed into it all and let himself drift again. Sink back into the floating sleep. The hand shook him again. He groaned. He didn’t want to wake up. It’d been so long, so many days since he’d slept at all. Dozing for an hour didn’t count. He needed this. Needed to sleep. Was desperate for it. How long had he slept? It couldn’t be more than a few hours. He needed more. Wanted more. Craved more sleep.

“Howie.”

The back of Lance’s hand over his cheek. He frowned. How did he automatically know that it was Lance? He didn’t want to think about that too much. Didn’t want to think at all really, just wanted to sleep. More sleep. Yes, more sleep would be good. He needed more sleep.

“Howie you need to eat something, you can sleep later.”

But he wouldn’t get to sleep later, later he’d be awake and Lance would be gone and he’d never sleep. He had to sleep now, sleep now whilst Lance was here and he was warm and still almost asleep, so close to still being asleep.

 

Hand stroking his cheek again.

“Please Howie.”

He sighed. He was almost fully awake now. What was the use? He’d never get back to sleep at this rate. Better to just give in and wake up. Eat for Lance and hope he got more sleep later.

“You can sleep later.”

“Promise.” Sleep slurred and slow.

“I promise.”

“You’ll stay?” still too sleepy to care about what he was saying.

Lance stilled for a moment.

“I’ll stay.” Hand stroking his hair again. “You need to eat though.”

He forced his eyes open, staring straight into Lance’s.

“Tired.” So soft.

“I know babe.” Slight blush. “But it’s past two and you haven’t eaten.”

He blinked. Past two. Lance had called him babe. He’d slept most the day. Lance would stay with him. Lance was worried. He was also blushing, just a slight flush of pink over his cheeks.

 

*    *    *

 

Three weeks. He’d gone back to being able to get a few hours sleep each night. Mainly on the nights Lance called. He was drifting, at a loss. Not knowing what to do. His business was running fine. Loose end. He had nothing to do for days. Nothing. He could have called friends, any one of the ‘boys’, but he didn’t. He could barely leave the house. Talking, interacting. He didn’t know what was wrong. He was fine. He wanted to be fine. Didn’t want anyone to worry. Didn’t want to worry Lance by calling him. He was away. Gone for three weeks on business and catching up with Joey and Justin.

 

No one had been to see him. Not even Chris. Though he kept threatening too. The house was so quiet. Silence. No sound. Nothing but his own bare feet padding over the tiles in the kitchen, running water in the bathtub. Couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t slept last at all night. Not even for an hour. He was better than this. Things had been better than this.

 

“Howie it’s Lance, just called to see how you were doing. I’ll try again later.”

He’d let the machine catch it. Hadn’t even bothered to talk to him, just pick up the phone and speak. He’d just listened. Listened to that message five times now. The only sound in his house that wasn’t made by him.

 

He hadn’t called Lance. Not for days. Not for over a week now. The cold had descended after the first week. Just a constant shiver of cold. Nothing stopped it. It just wouldn’t go, leave. Not even warm showers or blankets or turning on the heat. It was fall and he was cold. He didn’t want to be cold. Wanted to be warm. But he couldn’t get warm. Not without Lance. Couldn’t seem to get anything done without Lance. But there wasn’t anything to be done. Nothing.

 

He tried to settle, to think, to just rest or calm or something. Relax. He needed to relax. Lost, he was lost. Days just stretched out. There was no relief. Nothing to stop the endless time tolling out. Alone. He was so sick of being alone. Of being cold. Of not having anyone at home. But if he called someone they’d worry, think something was wrong. And there was nothing wrong. Everything was fine. Nothing wrong. But he…it wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right and he couldn’t, couldn’t call them. Couldn’t do that. Couldn’t make them worry like that. He was fine, he’d take care of himself.

 

*    *    *

 

“Howie? Are you there? Not sure if you’re out or screening your calls. I’m back in Orlando. Home again. If I don’t hear from you…”

“Lance?”

“Howie? Thought you were out, thought I’d missed you again.”

“Do you want…can you come over?”

Lance froze. Something was wrong. Something not just…

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Howie paused. Knew he should say something, something so Lance wouldn’t worry, wouldn’t think something was wrong, but no words came.

“It’s alright Howie, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.” So quiet.

 

*    *    *

 

He was talking the minute Lance got through the door, asking how his trip went, apologizing for not calling him sooner, returning his call when he’d gotten Lance’s messages. Truth was he’d listened to them all, kept them for days before erasing them. Didn’t want anyone else to hear them. Not that anyone else would hear them but…just in case, he didn’t want anyone to see he had them on his machine, hear them and wonder why he’d kept them. Hear in Lance’s voice that he hadn’t called him in return. He just…didn’t want anyone to know. It was…private. They wouldn’t understand, they’d worry and he just…

 

Lance was leaning back in an arm chair, watching Howie move around in rapid steps, turn the TV down but left it on for background noise. Noise. Sound. He’d started to crave it. Need it.  Anything to quell the silence of his house. The cold. Alone. Watched Howie fetch their coffee’s from the kitchen. Watched him put his own coffee down then Lance’s on the side table beside him. Watched him pause for a moment then allow Lance to lean forward, wrap first one arm then another around him. Pulling him down, closer then into Lance’s lap. Noticed Howie didn’t even try to resist.

 

Let Lance pull him down. Down till he straddled Lance, looking down as Lance stared up. Looked up at him as he suddenly fall silent. Focus. It was like everything just slid back in. He could…like something was gone. Gone and he could slow down again. Stop racing around. Stop trying to prove to Lance that he was fine, that nothing was wrong. He could just slide down, let Lance hold him, let Lance pull him close and warm and tight, so close, so warm, so tight.

 

He was shaking. More than shivering now. Shaking. Lance wasn’t sure for how long but right now. Right now he was shaking. He slid a hand under Howie’s left thigh, coaxed it up and over his own thighs, shifted Howie so he could hold him closer, pull him into the circle of his arms.

 

Warm. He was still shaking but warm. He could feel the warmth. Cradled against Lance. Against his body. So close and warm. Then shivering. The shaking slowing down, letting him sit still and solid over Lance. He let his cheek hit collar bone. Breath sighing out over Lance’s open shirt. Over skin. Hand in his hair, stroking softly through the curls. Calm. He could feel it coming, so calm, not quite there yet but so close. So close now. Not so far away he was just…he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t think.

 

Hand stroking his shoulder, down his back, sliding down his side, so softly, slowly.

“Have you slept?” soft.

“Not…not in days.” Barely audible.

Lance didn’t stiffen, didn’t tense or still or react. Instead his fingers stroked softer, sliding through silken curls.

“You should sleep.” So soft, gentle.

He nodded. Knew he should but he couldn’t, just couldn’t. Not with the shivering, not with the shaking, not with the constant cold. Fingers gliding over his cheek, traced his jaw. Warm and solid.

“Howie.” He paused. “Howie I’m worried about you.”

He couldn’t tense, just couldn’t. Didn’t have enough energy left in him to tense, to worry that Lance was worried. He just sighed. Sighed into his shirt, against his chest, felt Lance’s hands soothing over him softly.

 

Relieved. If he had to pick an emotion, he felt relieved. Wasn’t this what he really wanted? To make Lance worry. So Lance would come. Would hold him. Would make him warm again and hold him so he could sleep. He was weak. So weak and selfish and he hated…hated so much. How he felt. How much he hurt. How much it just wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t go away. Leave him alone so he could sleep by himself. Alone.

 

“I have to go to Vancouver tomorrow.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t…that’s not…” Protesting.

“I’m coming with you.” Firm.

“You just got back.” He pulled away enough to look up into his face, green eyes so clear. So sweet. Howie’s eyes were dull, red rimmed, exhausted. Lance kissed him softly, met his eyes again.

“I’m coming.”

 

He pulled away, broke free of Lance’s arms, headed straight for the kitchen. For what he didn’t know he just…the kitchen…he always headed for the kitchen. Maybe because he didn’t feel so useless there. Maybe because that’s where he used to keep the razor. Whatever the reason it just…he was up and out of Lance’s arms and heading straight for there. Not anywhere else. Not the bathroom or the bedroom where he could get away from Lance. No…he was heading for the kitchen. Tiles slapping under his bare feet.

 

Breathe. He just had to breathe. When had it become so hard to breathe? Why were his hands so white against the black bench top? Why was he shaking again? Why? Why god why was he so cold? Why couldn’t he get warm?

 

Lance found him facing the cupboards, hands gripping the bench like death. White and shaking. He was shaking again. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to do. Whether he should leave him, not touch him, just give him a moment to get himself together again. But he didn’t stop shaking, the shivering didn’t return, replace the shakes. It just seemed to get worse.

 

The kitchen was contrasts. Black benches, white cupboards, slender silver handles. Slightly stark, sterile. Clean. Howie was still shaking, still gripping the darkness. His hair shorter than he remembered. Looked like he’d had it cut. Clipped into shape up around his ears, up from the back of his neck. Lance padded over the cold grey tiles. Howie didn’t turn. Didn’t look to see him coming. Could hear him but didn’t turn. Knew he should turn but couldn’t, just couldn’t make himself turn to see Lance coming towards him over the space of his kitchen.

 

“Howie?”

Hands on his shoulders, running up and across, down over his back in soothing waves of fingers. So warm. But it wasn’t helping, he was still shaking. Wasn’t making the coldness stop. Not yet. Wasn’t helping yet. But he knew it would. Soon. Soon it was start to sink in. Lance’s hands would force the warmth into him. He bit his lip. Not force. No not force. Force was the wrong word for it. The warmth would just seep into him. Just settle and slowly soften him.

 

Stroking, endless. Just softly stroking.

“Do you want me to come?” so unsure, wondering if that was why Howie was so upset.

He nodded. Howie’s curls dipping and waving. He slid his hand up under the shirt. Softly over skin, felt, heard Howie gasp. Paused for a moment then skated down again, over his waist, across his hips, stroked his stomach, those abs. He pressed kisses to the nape of his neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” quiet, low.

“No.” Shaking his head this time. “Please?” so soft.

His fingers dipped lower.

“Tell me…” he wanted to be sure. “Tell me what you want.”

The stroking never ceased.

“More…please.” His head turned, finally looking over his shoulder at Lance. “Just touch me.”

Lance leaned closer, pressed warm kisses to his cheek, caught his eyes again.

“Here?” stroking his stomach then pausing, watching Howie’s eyes flutter closed.

He used his other hand to pull Howie’s hips back against his thighs, a little higher. Hand drifting lower, over his crotch, caressing through his jeans.

“Here?”

A soft groan. He cupped the growing erection in his hand.

“Is this what you want?”

Teeth in his lower lip, chin dropping forward, half a nod. He slid his other hand up, skated over his nipples, so softly, barely a touch.

“Do you like this?” husky now, fingers rolling over a nipple.

Howie gasped, head falling back onto his shoulder, hips pushing out, grinding his growing cock into Lance’s hand.

“Is that a yes?” rubbing the heel of his hand into him, fingertips gently pinching a nipple.

Moan, lips parting, lower lip falling open, tongue dashing out, wetting them both, breath hissing.

“Yes.”

He planted kisses on his neck, brush of teeth over his pulse.

 

Groaning, he was groaning. How had he…how had it…? He moaned again. Pressing his ass back into Lance’s crotch. Lance sunk his teeth into his throat, desire rumbling round his lips there. The first hand slid into his jeans, slid under the buttons and just…he couldn’t breathe again. Couldn’t catch his breath. So good. God that felt so good. Stroking. Softly stroking but…over…over the head then down, grasping his balls then…then…He was panting. Wanting more. More of hands, more of touch, more of everything.

 

“Please…please Lance.” Eyes opening to stare up at him, begging. He was happy to beg for this.

His eyes were clearer, clearer than mere moments ago. Clearer than when Lance had arrived. Something missing. Something gone. Something that shouldn’t even be there…vanished. Sadness. Loneliness. Hopeless. It was gone.

“Are you…bedroom?”

His hand sliding out and Howie whimpered.

“Bedroom.” Husky in his ear.

His cock throbbed to that sound. Bedroom. Bedroom…he took a step back, slid his ass against Lance and there were moans. Lance’s hand stroking his stomach clutching, crowding him.

“Howie?”

“Bedroom.”

Lance swallowed, nodded, finally took a step back.

 

*    *    *

 

Cock in his mouth. Howie was writhing. Struggling to stay still on the bed. Hips twitching and rocking, rolling his cock further into Lance’s mouth. Moaning as he sucked him slowly, softly. More, god he needed more, not slow, not soft, more he wanted. Lance started to slide, sucking him down, then up, over the head. Tongue slick, soft, stroking over the tip, teasing at the small slit. He groaned as Howie cried, hips bucking, hands scrambling for the sheets, burying fingers in his hair. Short and blond feathered by dark and bitten.

 

“Lance….Lance…”

Lance stroked him with his hand, lips soft and slow over the head, against the shaft, sucking just below where he…gasp, groan. Lips parting in a smile. Slick slide, moan. Slick slide moan. Hips shifting, rising, thrusting. Control, fuck control! He whimpered, moaned.

“Lance.” Groaning.

Slip of finger and he stilled. Touching, just touching, stroking over him so soft, across that sensitive skin, so close to. Gasp. Frozen and then gone. Eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. How long? How long had it been? So good, it’d been so good but how long? Forgotten the last time anyone had touched him there, slid inside him there. Soft tongue sliding over the shaft and it was forgotten again.

 

*    *    *

 

Soft kisses at his throat. He stirred. Warm once more.

“We should go.”

Howie yawned, snuggled deeper into Lance’s arms.

“Do you…still want me to come?”

Eye lashes fluttering open. Unsure what Lance meant.

“You don’t have to.” Giving Lance a way out if he’d changed his mind.

Head tilting back so Lance could look into his eyes. Not shivering now, no more shaking. Warm. He was warm. Lance was his warmth.

“I want to.” Soft.

“Thank you.” Staring at Lance serious.

“You don’t have to thank me.” A brief, soft kiss. “I want to be here.”

 

*    *    *

 

“You should sleep.” Soft, one hand sliding through his hair, the other flicking over channels on the big screen.

It was hard to stay awake. The short doze Howie had had at home wasn’t long enough. Not even close to long enough. He needed hours. An entire night and day to catch up on all the sleep he’d missed. But being told, having someone tell him he should sleep. He struggled harder to stay awake.

“I don’t need you to tell me when to sleep.”

“You’re tired. You haven’t slept in days.”

He bit his lip, refused to look at Lance. He shouldn’t have told him that, as soon as he’d realized what he’d told him he’d regretted it. Now he regretted it even more. The last thing he wanted was Lance worrying, Lance hovering and telling him what to do. He didn’t need to be taken care of, he could take care of himself. He didn’t need Lance. He didn’t. Wanted him. Wanted him to touch him, hold him, sleep with him but didn’t need him. Refused to need him. Refused to be told what to do.

 

Lance realized Howie had gone still, breathing quiet but he could feel the tension. They had taken Howie’s packed bags and moved them to his house so he could pack his things. It hadn’t taken much to convince Howie to stay here. With him. In his house. Now they were laying on his couch. Hadn’t taken much to convince Howie to do that either. One glance at Lance spread out along the cushions, another at the single arm chairs and he’d allowed himself to be pulled down beside him. Allowed himself to be enveloped by Lance. Warmth, he’d relaxed.

 

“I just thought…”

He shifted to look up at Lance.

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

Lance stared at the TV before looking down at him. Green eyes not so sure of that. He watched Howie’s eyes widen slightly.

“I don’t need you.” Stubborn.

“Howie, you don’t sleep.” Gentle.

“I didn’t sleep last night, I didn’t say I don’t sleep. I do sleep.”

Lance was beginning to understand what Chris meant by Howie being stubborn. Starting to believe what Chris said about it being hard to take care of him. But he just…he wanted to take care of him. He could barely keep his eyes open, he was shivering again. Shivering because he’d suggested he should sleep. Hell earlier he’d been shaking. Full blown shaking, not just the fine tremor of shivers. Shaking!

 

He finally voiced something that had been playing on his mind.

“Did you sleep at all when you went to Chicago?”

Shudder. Howie was just staring at him. Shutting down in front of his eyes. Pulling away from him on way too many levels.

“I don’t need this from you.”

Trying to get away from him. Trying to escape the questions no one else had ever bothered to ask.

“Howie.” Soft.

“Let me go.” Refusing to look at him.

He knew if he let him go now he might run, might run away and never let him back into his life. At least not like this. Not the way they’d been. But the way they’d been was because Lance hadn’t pressed him. Hadn’t asked questions. Hadn’t questioned anything. Had just been there. Been there.

“Howie wait.” Tightening his arms. “Please I’m sorry.”

Howie stilled and Lance rested his head against his shoulder. He’d squirmed so that now they were face to face, eye to eye.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” Still stubborn.

Lance lifted his head and they were suddenly so close, eyes straight into each other.

“I know you don’t.”

“Then don’t!”

He sighed.

“Do you want me not to say anything?” quiet.

Howie looked away. Didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want to be having this discussion. Didn’t want to answer the question. Didn’t know how to. Didn’t know what the real answer was.

 

“I just…” another sigh then lips, kisses over his cheek, across his jaw.

Howie looked at him again. Not sure what he was doing. What he was trying to say.

“I care about you.” So gentle. “I don’t know if I can just…not say anything.”

Eyes gone again, his head falling to Lance’s shoulder. He couldn’t keep looking at him, couldn’t stand the green eyed stare.

“I don’t need you Lance.” Quiet but firm.

“I know that.” Silence then. “Do you want me here?”

Oh god not that question. Please not that question. He couldn’t…didn’t want…shouldn’t…

“Lance…” choked.

Resigned sigh.

 

What could he say? That he liked being with Lance because the shivering stopped. Because when he was with Lance or even just talking to Lance he wasn’t cold anymore. That when he spent the night with Lance he could sleep for more than two or three hours at a time. That if he spoke to Lance at night he fell asleep to just the memory of his soft, low voice. How could he explain any of that without it sounding like he was just using Lance for his own gratification. Was he just using Lance for his own gratification? He wasn’t so sure. Either way it just…if he even thought about it too much…he was just. He was selfish. So selfish and weak. And he was using Lance but he didn’t even have the decency to tell him no, don’t leave me here. Don’t go away and leave me alone. Without you you’re right, I don’t sleep. At least not all night. At least not more than two or three hours.

 

He hated himself for that. He didn’t deserve Lance. Didn’t deserve the fact he’d just decided to go away again, with him, to Vancouver. Just because he was worried about Howie. Just because Howie had been weak enough to ask him to come over, too weak to cover up how fucked up he was. He wasn’t fine, so far from fine he couldn’t even hide it anymore. Couldn’t hide anything anymore.

 

So why was he trying? Why was he lying to Lance? Was he lying to Lance? Was he really making Lance think he was interested in him when actually he wasn’t? No…no that wasn’t true. He liked Lance. Liked touching Lance. Liked it when Lance touched him. More than liked it when Lance touched him. When Lance touched him it was like fire works and heat. So much heat. So hot. God it was so good, no one had ever made him feel that good from just a simple touch. But wasn’t that just using Lance? Just getting what he wanted from Lance without really feeling anything for him. He didn’t feel anything for Lance…did he? He knew he liked Lance. Knew he’d always liked Lance. Had lusted after Lance. Had wanted to get to know Lance.

 

But he had gotten to know Lance. Finally gotten the chance to.

 

He sighed into his warmth. Lance was warmth, and soft, and hot and love. Maybe not love forever or love for passion but…something else, another kind of love. The slow sort, the type that didn’t just blow up and explode. The kind that was nice, careful. Loving Lance would be enjoying the sound of his voice, listening to him get pushy and forget to call. He wasn’t in love with Lance. But he could love him. He could have him if he wanted to. Lance would let him have that. Lance would like him to have that.

 

He slid an arm over Lance’s side, his hand trailing under his shirt and over his shoulder. It took a moment but warmth wrapped around him, holding him again.

“I want to be with you. I want you to come to Vancouver with me.”

“Even if I can’t just sit by and say nothing?”

He tensed again, couldn’t stop.

“I know…you don’t like it but I just…I can’t not care about you.” Serious.

Relaxing, he was relaxing, couldn’t seem to stop himself. Stop the way his body just melted into Lance, head turning and pressing lips to his throat.

“Howie?” confused.

“That’s all I want.” The words slipping out without real thought.

Was that all he wanted? For someone to just…care. Stop pretending he was alright. Stop agreeing with him when he said he was fine. Was that really what he wanted? Yes. He kissed Lance again. That was what he wanted. He wanted Lance to care about him.

 

And again that ugly fear, by wanting that wasn’t he just using Lance? Just using him to get what he wanted. Anyone to care about him. Did he like Lance or how Lance made him feel? He didn’t know. Didn’t know and he was shivering again. He hated this. Hated it so much. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t decide on anything. Not important things. Not the things that really counted. He liked Lance, he did. He was sure he did. He wanted to be sure he did, but he didn’t know how. How could he really be sure what he really felt. He should leave Lance alone, figure it out. But alone, then he’d be alone and he couldn’t…not now, not anymore. Couldn’t go back to that. Couldn’t go back to being alone again now that he had Lance to make it…

 

“I’m going to care about you… no matter what you want.”

So simple. It was just…so…simple. It made him look at Lance, made him stare up at him in disbelief. He watched as Lance blushed, ducked his head slightly, eyes closing for a moment.

“Well…unless you tell me to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Still shocked. Smiling, Lance was smiling.

“That’s all I want.” Pausing then. “You really should sleep.”

Grinning. Howie was actually grinning at him. Couldn’t seem to stop.

“Pushy bastard.”

Lips, tongue, kissing him, hands suddenly cradling him, pulling him closer then trailing in his hair. Howie was breathless before Lance stopped.

“And this…I want to do this.”

 

Tilting him back into the couch and pressing him down, thigh between Howie’s and groaning. Howie was opening, his thighs falling open, hips arching upwards, moaning into the kisses, deepening the play of mouth on lips over tongue. Moaning again as Lance’s hand slid to cup his ass, bringing him up, into the curve of…gasping, moan. God, good. Cock sliding into the space between hip and thigh. Grinding over the thigh spreading his apart, watching Lance’s eyes roll, groan harsh and hot in his mouth.

“This?” teasing him softly. “Is this…” hips rolling. “What you want?”

Moaning, this time it was Lance that was moaning.

“Hmmm…yes.”

Hissing as Howie gripped his ass, rolled against him again, biting his bottom lip. Howie’s lips found their way to his throat, mouthing kisses downwards till he was thwarted by cloth, ice-pale blue shirt.

“Off.”

Lance’s hips were deliberate. Grinding down as he ached up, tilted back and unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, watching Howie’s head roll back, hips roll forward in pleasure. Half naked, Howie couldn’t take his eyes off him, trying to remember to breathe as his cock kept thrusting up into his hip.

“Better?”

Lip biting moan, nodding breathless.

 

Hands starting at his hips, skating up over cloth. His thumbs found nipples beneath Howie’s shirt.

“Can I?” teasing over his nipples again, watching him arch under his hands, onto his thigh, rubbing himself into his own pleasure.

 

He couldn’t resist the rocking of his hips, rolling downwards, grinding his cock against Howie’s thigh. The gasping cry was unexpected, heat pooling hotter. Moaning. He was trying to make Howie…another moan as their cocks ground again. Howie was supposed…Howie’s own fingers were working at the buttons of his shirt, the top one sliding free then the next, exposing golden chest as he went further. Buttons shifting lower, cloth parting as he pushed it out of the way, moved further down, to the lowest button now.

 

Distracted, god…groan. His body…so…hand rubbing over his abs, pressing him down, keeping him close. Thigh, cock, groan.

“I want you to…” pleading but Lance had other ideas, mouth falling on his stomach. Teeth, mouth, lips, breath hot and hoarse. Tonguing at the  muscles, making him buck. Quick dart against the depression and he whimpered., thighs straining to keep still, not rock his groin up into Lance’s throat. Teeth again. Groan.

“Lance I…Lance…”

 

Hand snaking up Howie’s thigh, pressing into his zip then sliding…easing it down and stroking inside. Groaning, moaning, whimpers. Lance’s fingers slipped down, stroking over his balls, softly, gently, watching him writhe. Hand against Lance’s head, fingers in his hair.

“Lance please.”

His bottom lip between his teeth, trying, trying so hard not to buck, not to roll, not to force him lower, his mouth lower onto his cock. Cock which was springing free into air, hand wrapping round the base again, stroking up slowly, down then over his thighs, teasing him. God he was teasing him. Mouth hot and licking over his stomach, shifting lower to tease at his abs, biting softly, gently and he just…he wanted…more god, please.

 

“Do you like this?”

Howie moaned, nodding, trying to focus, trying to nod but ragged, he could…just…fingers fisting in Lance’s hair as he stroked up again, swiped over the tip.

“Lance…Lance please…”

Lips on his abs, moving lower but so slow, too slow, he wanted.

“Please what…” mouth lifting off him again and he couldn’t help the whimpers, the pleading moan. “What do you want?”

“Your mouth.” Gasping.

“Here?” tonguing the skin over his abs.

His head shaking, trying not to force him down, to be patient, to wait.

“Low…lower.”

“You want me here?”

Right at the edge of his boxers, just below the belt, tongue seeking, lapping. He squirmed, hips thrusting, rocking, rolling till Lance held them down. Then whimpering again.

“Please Lance…please…on my…”

Words lost as he merely breathed over the head.

 

Lance didn’t need to speak that time, just lower his mouth and glide lips over the head. Watch as Howie groaned, hips surging upwards but held down by his arms. Howie’s fingers were twitching, gripping at his hair but he didn’t stop. Didn’t make him stop grasping at him. He licked. Slowly, softly over the head, delving lower till he found the small slit, tongue pushing inwards, upwards to groans, Howie’s head falling back, lips parted in supplication. God he loved this, loved the sounds he made, the taste of him so desperate for this, for anything, for a mere touch.

 

He pushed in again, up in a slide of pressure tongue, made him shudder and moan for it, before moving lower and putting pressure just below the head, sucking softly where he knew…Cries, thighs surging around him, trying to get him to move faster. He took the head in for that. Sucking softly then slowly down, sliding him inside, hot into his mouth then throat. Feeling Howie bracing himself, forcing his hips to lay still, his ass to just press against the couch. Trying so hard. He sucked backwards, pulling him from his mouth slowly, languishing in the squirms, the restless shift of hips, thighs, hands all around him.

“More.” Moaning.

Lance let him slide, rock upwards, slip past his lips, into his mouth, down his throat. Relaxing and just letting him fuck slowly, gently inside his mouth. Fingers pressing him down, forcing him further, to take more of him. Into his mouth, down inside his throat till he couldn’t breathe past the scent of him, the taste, the feel, groaning. Loving every inch of him as Howie pulled back, fingers stroking, caressing. Soft, so soft. Trailing to the nape of his neck.

 

He couldn’t…couldn’t…control. Lance just let him…Lance was just…Rocking. Rolling. Thrusting inside him. Slow but deep, so deep and…moans. Lance was the one moaning. He couldn’t…but he had to…had to stop…had to pull away…let Lance breathe…let Lance control…Breathless…he couldn’t breathe. But hands were stroking, ever so softly, sliding up his thighs, soft and slow, soothing then down. Mouth humming against the head. His eyes closed, Lance’s hands stroking, mouth hovering, humming but his eyes closed. Enjoying this…Lance was enjoying it.

 

His mouth was slick, tongue hot and hard and…sliding again. Sliding him down, up then over…down again. Oh god. Moving faster. Soft sucking but over, up, down, hand stroking, finger slipping back, between. Bucking hard and shuddery. Gasping for it. Then inside, slick and slow, mouth still moving. Steady. The finger slid deeper, out then deeper still. Moaning. Moans. Lance’s mouth of his cock, finger stroking his…Coming, fucking Lance’s mouth and…coming.

 

“I didn’t…” gasping. “I’m sorry.” Blushing, boneless.

Lance’s mouth tasting like come. Soft and soothing, kissing gentle. Tongue sliding. Groaning hard. His hand slipping inside Lance’s pants, past his boxers, straight onto his cock. Cock so hard, stroking him. Jerking him as Lance’s hips thrust, rolled.

“Like this…” when Howie started to kiss his jaw. “Just…” moaning. “Like this.”

Stealing kisses between moans.

“This?”

Hand squeezing his cock, stroking. Moans. Nodding rapid, breathing frantic. Moaning again.

“Oh god Howie.” Panting.

Deeper kisses, stroking his tongue, tasting the come there. Sliding his hand down to caress his balls then up over the head, stroking softly, slick but restless…his hips restless and rocking. Then slower, just softly, rocking back, forward, kisses softer.

“This…this is good.” Hot breath against Howie’s lips.

Mouth parted with soft moans, just staring, watching Howie stroke, slide. Groan. Hand jerking faster. Stroking him forward, over, back. Shuddery.

“How…” moans cutting him off, eyes fluttering closed then open.

Lips again, mouth soft. Warm. Slick. Moan. Arm around Howie, hips rocking, groaning. Whimpering cry.

“Oh…mmm”

Biting his lips even as Howie licked them, stroked them with is tongue. Eyes wide open, chin bumping, head trying to tilt back.

 

He gripped him tighter, holding him, stroking, biting at his lips, softly, just softly. Watching Lance struggle, try to stay, not come yet, try to make it wait…tried to…but moaning, groaning, mewling now. Then kisses, open mouthed, staring into him. Shuddering, coming hot over his hand, while staring. So soft, so hot. Staring. Till Lance’s eyes finally closed, head sliding back onto his shoulders, cock slick and soft with his own come.

 

Panting. Howie’s kisses pressed against his temple. Shuddering spent, unable to move any more. Barely able to breathe. That was…that was…something else. Not just coming, not just kisses, not just physical…felt so good. More than good. More than fucking, sex, coming. Better than just coming. Howie’s hands still stroking him, soft and soothing, kisses over his cheek, down his throat. Calming him down, bringing him down. He wanted that. Wanted more of this.

 

Messy, they were messy but Howie wasn’t moving. If anything he was getting more comfortable. More relaxed. Sliding closer against him. Breathing soft and slow over his shoulder. He stroked fingertips through his hair, sighed as he heard Howie’s soft moan. Howie liked that. He knew Howie liked that but never quite that much. He rubbed his fingers into his scalp and felt it as Howie’s eyes close, lashes fluttering over his neck. He knew Howie would fall asleep now, knew he’d relax and just drift, so he was surprised when he spoke.

 

“How was Joey and Justin?”

He didn’t speak for a long moment and Howie leaned back, pulled away from him, from the warmth to look up, frown into his eyes.

“You don’t want to talk about them?” surprised, unsure, so very careful.

“No…it’s just that…you’re not sleeping.”

Frowning annoyed now.

“Lance…”

“You normally sleep.”

He blushed, stared at Lance’s shoulder, felt Lance stroke his back in long lines.

“I was just…surprised.”

“You thought I’d just fall asleep?” Blunt.

Silent nod.

“Would you prefer it if I just fell asleep?” Angry now.

“No.”

“No?” Eye brows raised as he glared up at him. Disbelief.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Quiet.

“What did you mean then?”

“I was surprised, that’s all. I missed you, I missed talking to you, not just…” blushing softly. “Not just touching you.”

Shock.

“You missed me?”

“This is déjà vu to you not believing I have a crush on you.”

Frowning.

“Have a crush on me. Not had, a crush on me.”

Blushing hotter.

“I thought…you…um…thought that was obvious.”

Thinking, blinking and frowning as he thought about it. He knew that. He did he just…didn’t quite believe it really. That someone could have a crush on him, spend time with him, know about…him, the way he was and still…

“Howie?” fingers softly stroking his cheek then the back of his hand, smooth over his jaw. “I still like you.”

Catching Howie’s eyes as he looked up, his mouth as it met his.

“Care about you.” Another kiss. “Missed you.” Another, deeper one.

Howie melted against him, unable to resist. His tongue slipping alongside Howie’s, lips caressing.

“Just want to be with you.” Barely a whisper ghosting against Howie’s mouth.

Brown eyes slid open.

“You mean…”

Green eyes staring back.

“If you’ll let me.”

Flickering away, pulling back slightly but Lance held him, wouldn’t let him go too far before his arms coaxed him back.

“Whatever you want.” Lance assured him.

 

Hands, arms sliding around him again, fingertips stroking his back. No words but Lance would take what he could get. Howie didn’t know what he wanted. Lance knew what he was doing was wrong, he shouldn’t press, shouldn’t pressure him into anything but he couldn’t seem to stop. Couldn’t stop wanting him, wanting more. Wanting to just…take care of him. Take him to dinner. Wake up to breakfast. He just…he wanted that with him. Wanted to go away with him, when he went on business, when he just wanted to go away. Wanted to make sure he ate, slept, wasn’t cold and shivering and alone.

 

He still couldn’t understand that none of his ‘boys’ had come to see him, how none of them spoke to him and heard there was something wrong. If Chris could hear it, Chris who could be so self absorbed it was almost frightening, could have one conversation with him and realize something was seriously wrong, then why couldn’t they? Why couldn’t they hear the sound of his voice, the simple lack of…anything. It’d taken effort, so much effort just to get a reaction, to provoke him into anger. How could that sound normal? He knew Howie lied, knew he told them over and over that he was fine. He’d said it often enough to him. Told him nothing was wrong, he was just tired, was coming down with the flu, anything so he wouldn’t think there was something wrong. But there was. It was so obvious it was just…it scared him. Made him wonder what kind of ‘brothers’ Howie had.

 

His fingers were sliding through Howie’s hair again, something he couldn’t seem to stop even when he knew he was doing it. The silky slide of curls, the way Howie melted. Lance didn’t want to stop.

“So how are Joey and Justin?”

He smiled against his cheek, pressed a careful kiss there.

“Justin’s tired but that’s touring. I don’t think he realized how hard it was going to be. Joey’s been busy, he’s thinking about hosting a talent show. Something like Idol only more suited to theatre. They’ve asked Johnny to be a judge.”

“When does he think that will be?”

“Late next year. Maybe fall.”

“So you guys don’t have any plans?”

“Justin and JC are still doing their solo thing.”

“What do you want?”

“I have business to keep me busy either way.” Quieter  “But I do miss recording.”

Howie’s next words were so quiet Lance barely heard them.

“We’re going back to record soon.”

Lance frowned, waiting for more but Howie was silent.

“Is that what you want?”

Even softer.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you guys talked?” gentle.

“AJ…a few weeks ago.”

 

Lance had to stop himself from gritting his teeth. AJ had called while he was away and yet still, as far as he could tell, no one had come to see him. No one had wondered why Howie sounded so different.

“I’m fine Lance.” So tired. “I’ll be fine.” He sounded so weary.

Shivering slightly again. Lance tugged on the back of the couch, pulling down the throw he’d put there. He dragged it over the two of them and Howie didn’t comment, didn’t complain or protest, let Lance tuck the throw around his shoulders even as he tucked himself in closer to Lance.

 

*    *    *

 

“You have to talk to them Chris, this is fucking stupid. How the hell is it they don’t know about this?”

“Whoa hi to you too Lance.”

“I’m serious Chris.”

“Howie?”

Lance cursed and glanced back through the door to make sure Howie was still asleep. He’d left him on his sectional couch, curled around caramel cushions and covered in the white woolen throw his Mom had sent him.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Snapping, running a hand through his hair.

Chris paused, remembered to breathe. He hadn’t told Lance about the razor, decided it was better he didn’t know. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe he should have said something.

“Howie?”

“He’s asleep.” Sighing, resting his ass against the wooden desk in his study.

Papers in neat piles next to his lap top. Business proposals on the left, current artists on the right. He heard Chris’s hissing sigh of relief.

“You have to talk to them Chris. They need to know what’s going on. Stupid mother…”

“Lance calm down, what happened?”

“Nothing happened. Nothing. Which is exactly the fucking point. It’s been what…four, five weeks since you dragged me to dinner with him.”

“Almost six actually.”

Lance growled. Chris stared at the phone.

“Ahh Lance…calm down okay and get to the point.”

“They haven’t even called him. Well except AJ…once. He hasn’t seen them, they don’t call. I mean…you annoy to fuck out of me and we still talk.”

“Why thank you.”

“Smart ass you know it’s true…you make it true.” suddenly

“Won’t deny it.”

“What kind of band doesn’t even talk to each other?”

“Umm…one that’s self absorbed and headed by Richardson?”

“Stop being a dick I’m serious.”

Chris sighed.

“You’re right. But seriously Lance they think he’s fine, he says he’s fine. They probably email each other like I dunno, five times a day or something stupid.”

“Five times a day ha?”

“Alright so Richardson’s a big pansy liar. I don’t know.”

“You’ve been talking to Kevin?” flat out surprise.

“He may have called.”

“About Howie?”

“Yeah about Howie. What’s your point?”

“But he doesn’t talk to Howie. He calls you. Don’t you think that’s a little…odd.”

“I told you, Howie blows him off. Gets narky when he tries to point out he’s not his angelically chirpy self.”

There was a long pause.

“Finally told you to back off ha?”

“Maybe.”

“But he’s asleep on your couch?”

“How’d you know he’s on my couch?”

“Because you called from your down stairs line and I know you wouldn’t take your eyes off him.”

“Which is why you took me to dinner.”

“Didn’t we have this conversation already. Just admit I’m right and move on.”

“Asshole.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Lance ignored him.

“You have to talk to them Chris. Ring AJ and get him to bring Nick then get Kevin to bring Brian.”

“You’re suggesting I invite them into my place?” Dead pan.

“I’d offer mine but I won’t be here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Howie has to go to Vancouver tomorrow.”

Silence.

“Chris? Chris!”

“I’m thinking.”

“I don’t have all day Chris.”

“Smart ass.”

“Learned from the best.”

“Well at least you admit it.” Smirking.

“You were thinking?”

“I was thinking how the fuck did you manage that.”

“Manage what?” Frowning, leaning out the door to check on Howie.

 

He was still asleep, eye lashes resting against golden cheeks. Hair a mess of curls against his head, fanning out over the cushion.

“Earth to Lance you’re not in space yet.”

He blushed, instant and hot. Chris was laughing.

“Stop checking him out in his sleep.”

Lance blushed harder.

“You were saying?”

“Did he ask you to go with him?”

“No…I told him I was going.”

“Just like that. You told him and he just…agreed?”

“Well…yeah.”

“Did you grow magical horns since I last saw you?”

“Very funny Chris.”

“No really cause if you did I want some.”

“To pick up AJ, you’ll need it.”

“Bitch.”

 

“So you’ll call them?” Suddenly serious.

“I’ll call Richardson.” Serious.

“Try not to be an asshole.” Quiet.

“I’m serious Lance, I’ll call them, if they won’t come here I’ll go to LA.”

“Thank you.”

“Howie was my friend before he even knew you guys, if you think this’ll help…”

“They have to know. If they’re too stupid to figure it out by themselves then someone has to tell them.”

“I’ll take care of it. You just…go keep him warm or something, whatever magic thing it is you do.”

“It’s not magic Chris.”

“Whatever it is, at least he listens to you.”

The line went dead. Trust Chris to have the last word on everything.

 

*    *    *

 

Warmth, so good against his skin, but he’d been sleeping.

“What time is it?”

“Just past four.”

He groaned.

“I know, you can sleep on the plane. Next time we’ll get a later flight.”

He’d let his eyes slide shut despite the need to get up. Lance was laying on his side facing him, arm around his back, pulling him close while he dozed. It was still dark outside. A rustle of cotton made his eyes open but Lance wasn’t moving away, no, if anything he was moving closer. Soft kisses and the back of his hand stroked over his face gently. He could get used to this, wouldn’t mind getting used to it. Would like waking up every morning to Lance, to kisses, to soft caresses and warmth.

 

And tired…he was so tired of being alone, of being cold and lonely and just…not having this. He snuggled closer. Lance didn’t protest, didn’t push him away. His hand still stroking, lips so close to his ear, hovering there before sighing.

“We should get up.”

“Soon.”

Smiling lips. He pressed a soft kiss to Lance’s neck.

“Soon?” Teasing.

“Yes…soon.” Then whispering against his skin. “Not yet.”

The dark was wrapped around them, covering them in false dawn. It was close, not far off, not here yet but so close. Just close…not upon them. Howie snuggled closer and Lance didn’t stop him, held him closer, stroked his hair, down his back.

“I like this.”

Howie confession, so soft.

“I like being with you.”

Lance’s voice low and warm against his hair.

“I don’t want to get up.”

“We have a flight.” Unsure.

Sighing into Lance. He didn’t want to go anymore. Didn’t want to have to work today. Wished he could just stay here, in Lance’s bed. In Lance’s arms. Warm, close, held. Not alone, not cold, not shivering, not shaking, not hating every minute he wasn’t warm and…could he say loved? This feeling, this was what it felt like to be loved. Warm and safe and not…scared.

 

But he refused to admit that. Refused to think about being scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of being lonely. Scared of the cold and the darkness and…shivering. He was shivering again.

“Howie?” Worried.

Lance was worried about him. Lance shouldn’t be worried. He didn’t want Lance to worry. Or did he want him to worry? He liked it when Lance worried. Liked it when he just came over, listened to Howie ask for him, didn’t make him beg, didn’t make him explain just…came. Came and held him and touched him and it felt so good. Good to be touched, good to be able to touch. To taste, to just…hold and want and be held. He’d missed that. Such simple things and he’d missed them.

 

“Howie?”

Lance’s arms holding him tighter. He clung to Lance. Stroking. Through his hair, up, down his back, over his shoulders. The shivering getting wilder, harder. So cold, why was he suddenly so cold.

“It’s alright. Howie we don’t have to go. We can cancel. You don’t have to go.”

“It’s not that.”

Hand against his head, fingers threaded with curls. Silk and satin and soft.

“Talk to me. Tell me what it is then.”

“I like this.”

Shuddering now, starting to shake.

 

So many definitive statements. So close together. Is that what the problem was? He found it hard to admit things? Even to himself. Found it hard to admit exactly what it was that he wanted? Or did he just not believe he deserved to have what he wanted? Was Howie waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Lance to say no more, he didn’t want what Howie wanted. Didn’t want to deal with his slightly neurotic behavior. But he seemed so freaked out every time Lance mentioned permanent. That Howie could have him, that he wanted Howie, that he’d be Howie’s, belong to him if only Howie would let him, say yes. He pulled Howie closer, suddenly flush against his front, felt his shudders like a fine tremor again, the shaking seemed to have slowed.

 

“You can like this.”

How to explain to Howie that he deserved to have this? Lance wasn’t going to take it away.

“I want you. Like this, in bed, in front of the TV, having dinner. I want you. You can have this anytime you want.”

 

Want. Anytime he wanted. But…he couldn’t. Lance wasn’t always there. Lance went away. Lance had a life, he couldn’t ask for that. For this. All the time. He couldn’t have that. Couldn’t have what he wanted. It was too much. He wanted this too much. Wished, he wanted. Lance was coming with him to Vancouver. He blinked, eye lashes opening against shoulder skin. Lance was coming with him. He could have this. At least for a few days straight. Could have Lance with him, whenever he wanted. Whenever he wanted to sleep. Whenever he just needed to touch, to taste, to feel. To have. He could have…Lance would come with him. He just had to get up, out of bed. Get on that plane and Lance was his.

 

“Howie?”

He’d gone still again. Just…shuddering stopped. Suddenly so still. So warm in his arms. The shivering gone. Completely gone.

“We should go, we’ll miss our flight.”

Calm, warm but calm. Not cold and calm and… ‘our’ flight…? He stared at the wall in the dark. Shock. He felt shocked. Had Howie seriously just said our flight, not his flight? What did he…did he mean…would he…He shut his eyes. Not the time. He’d think about it later. When he had the time. When they got to Vancouver and Howie had his work and he could just…what exactly was he planning on doing in Vancouver while Howie had business meetings? Later. He’d think about it later. Plan it later. Right now he had to get up. Get on the plane. Catch their flight, not miss it musing over what on earth Howie could have possibly meant by that comment. ‘Our flight. Our flight.’

Followed closely on the heels was, ‘Chris better do something about his ‘boys’’

 

*    *    *

 

Sleeping. He was sleeping. Lance had come back to their room, hoping Howie would be back in time for dinner and found him, stretched out, face down, one hand up near his cheek. Sleeping. The comforter pulled up over one shoulder, leaving the other exposed and naked. He was warm, obviously warm and sleeping. The warm red making his skin glow in the lamp light. Lance let his bag drop, black slipping to the red flecked floor. Almost like blood splatter and yet…not…more flecked and random and wholly covering the entire floor not just patterns. Howie hadn’t stirred.

 

He thought Howie would still be working, the last two nights he had. Lupus Foundation functions running over time. Howie hadn’t made it to bed before three yesterday…or was that today now? He frowned. And now here he was, sleeping. The last two days Lance had gone out, seen museums, local attractions, taken a day trip over to the island. He’d found things to do but they’d barely spoken. Only at night, when Howie stumbled in, so tired he could barely stand up straight. The time he hadn’t slept while Lance was away catching up with him after a four am wake up call and a six hour flight.

 

The pillows were burnt orange. He had no idea what the designer had been thinking when they did this room but…it suited him. Suited Howie. The orange and the reds. The earthy yellow lamp shade next to the table, shedding light over his tanned skin. That naked shoulder. The dark brown, almost black curls fitted in. Trailing over his ears, against his temple, just brushing the nape of his neck. Eye lashes swept across cheek-bones. Lance caught himself staring.

 

It was good that Howie was asleep. It was the first time he’d seen it while he hadn’t been the one to get him there. He seemed to need the company, the warmth, something before he could actually fall asleep. The fact he’d just fallen…by himself. Alone. No one to keep him warm, stop him shivering…Lance wondered what he was like in his meetings. Did he shiver then too? Did anyone notice? Say anything? Or did they just do what the rest of his ‘boys’ did and ignore it? Pretend there was nothing wrong. That Howie was perfectly fine even though he was shivering and so cold and quiet. Was that really normal for him? He just…couldn’t imagine that being normal for anyone. It was obvious it was normal for Howie now but…hadn’t it been different at some stage? Hadn’t he been excited about something and energetic and life…He could have sworn Howie used to have life. Not just…existence.

 

He slid out of his jacket, slipped across the room and kicked off his shoes. Howie still wasn’t stirring and he really didn’t want to wake him, he should probably sleep for another hour or so but…he just. He wanted to curl around, hold…touch him. It was nice when Howie was warm, nice in a way…new way, different way that wasn’t sex or hot or…anything like it used to be with anyone else. For whatever reason…Howie was different. He didn’t know if that was a good difference, if Howie would get better, find his feet again and just…not need, want…him. Anymore.

 

He slid down the bed, not even under the cover, just reaching out, touching that bare skin, pressing lips to it without thought, hunger, taste taking over. Wanting just to taste, touch him.  Howie stirred a little, didn’t shift far, didn’t move away, just sighed. Soft. Not protesting. Not pulling away just…he pressed another kiss there. Softly, so softly, didn’t want to wake him. Not yet. Wake him later. Touch him later, but now…now he could…Sliding in closer, wrapping an arm over his waist, pressing close and warm and stirring. That made him stir, edging sound of protest. He lay still. Didn’t want to wake him, not yet…not yet.

 

So tired, he was just…so tired. Lance was off, out…somewhere…Island. Howie thought he remembered something being said about the island. While he had another meeting. Work to do. Had to get up. Out of bed. Out of Lance. Away from Lance and warmth and he was warm. Again. Warm again. Lips on his right shoulder. Lance. Lance was back from the island. He sighed into it, wanting to be closer but it was effort, too much effort and he was sleeping. Sleeping by himself and warm and not shivering or cold or nothing wrong right now.

 

When he got back last night Lance was already asleep, light on, orange red comforter up around his ear, blond hair sticking up at all angles. Red didn’t suit Lance. He was too pale. To blond. To green. Apple green. No, red didn’t really suit Lance. Nothing in this room really suited Lance. He’d wanted to worry about that but it had taken all his energy just to undress, just to get his shoes untied and crawl into the mass of orange and red that didn’t suit Lance and climb in, get warm. It was cold outside. He wasn’t cold, didn’t feel cold, felt warm, but his skin was cold and Lance was warm, the bed was so warm.

 

Lance was awake within seconds. Didn’t even last through the first jolt of the mattress let alone the shiver cold of Howie’s skin up against him.

“You’re cold.”

“It’s cold outside.”

“Snowing?”

Eyes wide and crisp green and awake now. Dark blond lashes framing apples.

“Not yet.”

Snuggling closer, sliding into Lance’s arms, lips on his and kiss, warmth. Just chaste but kiss, mere brush of lips. Lance’s hands stroking, making him warm again.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was waiting, fell asleep.”

“You didn’t have to wait.”

“I wanted to.”

Howie rolled his eyes.

“What?”

Deep, honey chocolate brown. So clear it was like crystal. Different, not like he looked the day he called. Yesterday. That was yesterday.

“Lance you don’t have to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

“We had this conversation already.”

“I think it ended with you agreeing I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.”

“No you don’t.” Blunt.

“Maybe I don’t.” honest.

“I’m not trying to argue with you.”

Wry smile.

“I told you I can’t just…not say anything.”

Hard eyes, suddenly stubborn.

“I can take care of myself.” Pointed, enunciating clearly.

Lance sighed, eyes closing.

“Tell me what you want from me.”

“I want you here, I don’t need you.”

 

*    *    *

 

Maybe Howie was right. Maybe he didn’t need him. If he could sleep…he’d obviously proven he could sleep without Lance around. Which…blew that theory all to hell. He didn’t seem to sleep any other time. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Howie didn’t need him at all. Maybe he did just want him and if he wanted him…wasn’t that a better thing to have? A good thing. That was if Howie was telling the truth and not just lying to himself. What would he do if Howie was lying to himself? What could he do? He cared about him. Wanted to take care of him. If Howie did need him. Needed him but just wouldn’t admit he needed him, not even to himself. He’d still be there, still be here with Howie no matter what. Even if Howie tried to make him leave. He’d probably still be here. Getting to do this, be like this, touch him…hoping that he could help him…everything and anything was worth that.

 

*     *     *

 

Chris met AJ at the front door, Nick hovering over his shoulder obviously interested in what was going on. Kevin and Brian were already in the lounge. Waiting, they were all just waiting around for Chris to let AJ in. He nodded, licked his lips nervously and opened the door wider. AJ nodded in return, silent.

“Hey.”

Trust Nick to have to perfect thing to say, or the not so perfect thing, either way he always had something to say. Unlike AJ who tended to be the silent type until he had something worth saying. At least since the drinking had stopped. Chris stopped thinking and lead them further into his house.

 

He watched the last two get settled as Nick looked around the room interested in everything. Not vacant, no, Chris reminded himself Nick wasn’t stupid he just tended to say stupid things. Time had proven Nick to be a lot smarter than people expected. People like Chris. And Justin.

 

“Where’s Howie?”

He glanced at the rough voice sliding out of AJ’s mouth and tried not to stare. It’d been awhile since he’d seen him in person, had forgotten the affect that voice could have on the unwary, unsuspecting…stop counting synonyms dumb ass and answer the question.

“We’ll get to that in a moment.”

Chris glared at Kevin. Who the fuck did he think he was?

“Nice place.”

Chris frowned, stared at Nick. Was he really that oblivious to what was going on? If Lance was anything to judge by…yeah…Nick didn’t have a clue.

 

“Do you guys want a drink?”

Perfect host voice and everything. He even had soda in his fridge instead of beer. That had been a fun conversation with Lance.

 

“I called Dickheadson and he’s calling Brian and AJ.”

Lance didn’t even bother to correct him or try preliminaries.

“What about Nick?”

“Richardson says he’ll come with AJ.”

“Good.” Silence.

“You want to know what I bribed Kevin with to get him here, in my home I might add.”

“I appreciate it Chris.”

Sighing. Lance just wasn’t rising to any bait these days. Maybe over exposure to Howie, Howie was depressed was dragging Lance down.

“When’d you last sleep?”

“I’m fine Chris just…”

“Don’t fucking fine me Lance! I’m not Richardson and I’m not fucking oblivious.”

“No cursing before Richardson you must be in a good mood.”

“Don’t fuck with me Lance.” Serious.

Sighing on the other end of the line.

“I’m just worried about him. He seems to be doing better with me here but…I don’t know if it’s enough.”

“You don’t have to be superman Lance. We’re fixing this. Both of us remember.”

“Yes and back to that.”

Growling.

Silence.

More growling.

“Should I hang up now?”

“Don’t be a smartass Lance.”

“Why when you’ve taught me so well?”

“Cunt.”

Silence.

“Is Kevin going to tell them why they’re coming to Orlando?”

“No. Kevin who I am letting into my house is not telling them anything. Probably that it’s some band shit. He’s the schedule guy, he says be there, they come running.”

“Big Daddy.”

“So I’m told.”

“Ahh Chris…yuck.”

“You…anyway…so AJ…”

“He is coming right?”

“Kevin says he’s booked on a midday flight with Nick.”

“So why the so AJ?”

“I have a bar and a fridge full of beer.”

“Ah…AJ.”

“Yes…AJ.”

“Close the bar and put some soda in the fridge and last time I checked you have a living room, not just a den.”

“Is that what that room is called.”

“Smartass.”

“Better believe it.”

Sighing.

“Go sleep or something Lance.”

“Make sure you have diet pepsi for Nick. He’s not allowed the real stuff.”

“Any hints on what AJ’ll drink.”

“Not cola.”

“Well that helps.”

“I don’t know Chris buy him fanta.”

“That green shit?”

“It comes in orange.”

“Since when?”

Lance rolled his eyes.

“Since you stopped trying to get me to drink the green stuff.”

“Oooooh.”

“Smartass.”

“Bitch.”

 

Chris heard a door open in the background.

“I’ll call you after they leave.”

“Alright.”

 

*     *     *

 

“Pepsi for me.”

“AJ?”

“Anything but cola.”

“Fanta.” Brian piped up.

“Give it up man, I’m not drinking that green shit.”

Chris managed a straight face.

“It comes in orange.”

AJ shrugged, elegant shoulders rising and falling.

“Whatever you’ve got.”

“I’ll help.” Nick was already on his feet before Chris could stop him following.

 

“So what’s up with Howie?”

Chris smacked his head into the fridge door.

“Mothering fucking ow!” He glared at Nick.

No…not stupid at all, and not so oblivious it would seem.

“Help me get the drinks and I’ll tell you.”

Nick rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, when we get back out there.”

He couldn’t help but stare at Nick for a moment.

“You spoken to him lately?”

“He doesn’t answer the phone.”

An eyebrow raised all on its own. Oh really…now Lance hadn’t mentioned that.

“Here take this.”

He handed him his diet pepsi and made a beeline for the living room. Nick sighed. No one told him anything.

 

“So where’s Howie?” AJ was persistent if nothing else. Well that and maybe slightly uncomfortable despite lounging on Chris’ sofa.

Kevin just looked at Chris.

“In Vancouver.”

“So he’s not coming?”

“No.”

“What the fuck is going on?”  
Brian was frowning, looking between Kevin, Chris and AJ.

“You haven’t tried calling him?” this from Nick.

“He’s busy.”

AJ was starting to shift now, sitting up straighter and staring at Kevin.

“Kevin what the fuck is going on? What are we doing here while Howie’s in Canada?”

“Do you even know why he’s in Canada?” Chris just had to ask.

AJ glared.

“He’s doing another Lupus thing.”

“Alex has a point cous, what is going on?”

All eyes were on Kevin now and Chris watched as it was his turn to lick his lips nervous.

Chris didn’t want to acknowledge the look Kevin shot him but it was too obvious to ignore. He shrugged. Better to tell them everything. Even if he hadn’t told Lance. Lance did not need to know about the razor.

 

Kevin told them about the razor.

 

AJ was frozen, he hadn’t moved since the word razor and kitchen drawer. Nick was round eyed and clinging to the arm of the sofa, Chris kinda felt sorry for him. He’d obviously known something was up but had no idea just how bad things were with Howie. Brian…Brian was just trying to process razor and kitchen and…he blinked at Kevin.

“But I have a razor, it’s just a razor right…you’re not saying?” looking at Kevin so hopeful, praying for Kevin to be wrong.

“We have to go…now.” AJ still hadn’t moved but it looked like he was speaking again.

Silence. Kevin glanced at Chris again, trusting him, trusting Lance.

“Not yet.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us this sooner!?” growling angry.

Helpless, pleading. Staring at Chris again. Chris blinked back at Kevin.

“He’s alright.”

AJ was glaring, staring at Chris like he had no right to just materialize out of nothing. Or maybe like he was nothing. Like he had no right to be present for this revelation.

“He’s with Lance.” Kevin’s voice trying to be soothing and sounding more ragged than comforting.

“Who the fuck…”

AJ stared at Chris.

“Lance?” disbelieving.

“Lance.” Nodding calm, fidgeting but calm.

“What…how…?” Still angry and confused.

“But he’s still…it’s just a…Kevin what are you saying?” Brian still struggling.

Nick’s hand slid over AJ’s thigh and he started to breathe again, stopped trying to throw visual daggers at Chris.

“He’s depressed. Like…really, really depressed. Not sleeping, eating or talking to people depressed.”

AJ tried to throw more daggers but the full realization hit him.

“He’s been pushing…fobbing us…shit.” Swallowing hard.

“But Lance is with him?” Nick keeping the conversation on track, glancing between Kevin and Chris. “Right? So he’s talking to someone, yeah?”

“They talk, he eats, they sleep.”

“So they’re…?” Brian not wanting to assume anything.

“You’d have to ask Howie.”

“But Howie isn’t talking to us!” AJ snarling. “He’s just…” Near panic when his eyes slid past Chris’ face.

“He’s shut us all out Alex.” Kevin’s voice soft and deep. Sad maybe, hurt.

Nick’s arm slid around AJ’s shoulders, cheek pressing into the left one for a moment then pulling away again, leaving his arm draped over his back.

 

Chris had a moment to think oh…they…then resigned oh again. At least that would explain why Lance said AJ would bring Nick.

 

“We should call him.” Brain was saying softly.

“I’ve tried, he doesn’t pick up.”

“Or he says he’s busy.” Kevin added.

AJ was staring at the floor now, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I didn’t even know about Lance.” Bitter.

“Niether did I.” Echoed by Brian.

“Kevin?”

“Chris told me.”

“So he didn’t tell you either?”

“No. He’s not taking my calls at all now.”

“I just thought…you know. He was busy. He kept saying how busy he was and that he didn’t have time and that he was sorry and that…I should…I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about Lance. He took Lance to Vancouver. To a Lupus function.” Brian was almost stuttering now. So many words after so much silence.

“Not exactly to. I don’t think anyone knows Lance is there.”

“So the media don’t know?”

Chris shook his head.

“Oh that’d be grand, they know before we do.” Fierce and somehow defeated.

“AJ.”

Daggers again. Chris began to wish he’d stop with the fucking self centered theatrics, and still he was licking his lips nervously again. Inside he cursed. Stupid hormones. Stupid 12 year old crushes. Fuck, he’d forgotten what he was going to say and now they were all staring at him.

 

Shit.

 

Stupid Lance. Stupid ideas. Stupid boybands. Stupid.

“Hey don’t fucking blame me because you don’t give a fucking damn about your ‘brother’” using his hands for the mocking quote marks.

Stupid mouth.

 

AJ was trying to stand but Nick was almost twice his size and the arm around his back was conveniently tight enough so he couldn’t get up. Chris glared at Kevin.

“Well?” eye brow rising.

“You’re not helping.” Calm and angry.

“Oh and you’re doing such a good job here at keeping the fucking animals under control.”

“Let me go Nick!”

“Let him go Nick, let him try to take my fucking head off cause his is so far up his fucking ass he can’t see anyone through his own shit.”

That stopped him. Suddenly still against Nick tears in his eyes. Fuck. Shit. He hadn’t meant to do that. Hadn’t meant to make AJ cry. But he wasn’t crying just staring at Chris all shiny and wet and not crying. Face frozen with pain.

“We have to do something.” Brian’s quiet voice cutting through the testosterone that was blossoming quite nicely over the coffee table.

“If he knows we’re doing this because of him he’ll just pull away more.”

That from Nick who was still holding AJ with one arm, more like holding him up now as AJ still stared at Chris in frozen horror.

“You’re right.” hoarse.

“Which part?” Brian.

“If he knows he’ll just run off somewhere like last time.”

“Last time?”

But Chris knew that wasn’t what AJ had been agreeing to. The look on AJ’s face said he knew Chris was right and he was being a self centered asshole and he knew that was half the reason things were so bad now.

 

“When Caro died he just…vanished between tour legs. Didn’t leave a number, nothing. Just showed up for the next concert.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Husky.

Chris glanced back to that face but the shiny eyes were gone, just a trace of something left. Respect maybe.

“If we show up he won’t kick us out.” Nick being the smart one again. “If we’re here when he gets back he won’t…” Puzzled searching face.

“Protest?”

“Yeah.” Blushing.

“Whens he due back?”

“Three…maybe four days. I’ll ask Lance.”

“I have an appearance next week.”

Chris didn’t say a word but instantly AJ was explaining.

“It’s a charity thing I promised and he knows. I mailed him days ago he’ll know something if I just cancel.”

“We’ll come back the week after then. Unless he’s going somewhere after?” Nick was looking to Chris again.

“I can ask Lance.”

 

*     *     *

 

“What’d they say?”

Chris stared at the ceiling from his sofa, video game paused on the big screen TV.

“Chris?”

“Nick’s a lot smarter than he sounds.”

Lance was frowning, lost, Chris could almost see it.

“Um…okai.”

“He knew something was up with Howie. Did Howie tell you he’s stopped answering his cell and isn’t returning messages?”

“He doesn’t want them to worry Chris. I think he worries that they worry.”

“Lance there is way too much worrying going on. He’s getting paranoid?”

Silence.

“Lance?” Soft.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I think he’s trying to hide it from everyone.”

“Everyone but you.”

Silence again.

“Lance?” drawing his name out.

“What did they say?”

Chris let it pass for once. See he was maturing.

“Brian kinda freaked out a little, sort of in denial but Kevin convinced him it wasn’t all just a big mistake. I think he’s still trying to wrap his mind around it.”

“What about…”

“Nick figured something was going on but he had no clue what. He’s worried. But if Howie’s freaking that they’re freaking then you probably shouldn’t tell him that. Maybe tell him…”

“I’m not telling him anything.”

“Is that such a good idea?”

“What do you want me to tell him? Hey your band are stupid and clueless so I decided to have Chris fill them in on how depressed you are?” He was shaking his head. “No Chris I’m not telling him.”

“He’ll find out.”

“Are they going to tell him?”

“Maybe.”

“I doubt it.”

“But maybe.”

“Chris.”

“Fine.”

“What about AJ?”

“Now I know why you said AJ would bring Nick.”

“Oh…Howie never mentioned…”

“Yeah…Howie doesn’t mention a lot of things.”

“I’m trying Chris.” He sounded tired.

“I’m not…Lance chill I know he doesn’t tell you everything. At least he’s talking to you. That’s the good part.”

Sighing.

“So AJ.”

“AJ was an asshole.”

“He was probably upset.”

“He was still an asshole.”

Chris explained what happened.

 

“Okai so AJ’s an asshole.” Lance agreed.

A sigh from the other end of the line.

“Maybe not?”

“Alright he’s not an asshole.” Annoyed. “Just an ass.”

“But a great ass.” Smirking.

Another sigh.

“You alri…”

“Hang on.” Sitting up. “Someone’s at the door.”

Putting the phone on hold and sliding off the couch towards the door. He peeked through the hole, squeaked and almost dropped the phone. Unlocking the door he took the phone off hold.

“I’ll call you later.” As he opened the door.

“Chris who is it?”

“Did you forget something?” cool, neutral.

“Can I come in?” husky, eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

“AJ?” Demanding into the phone. “AJ’s at your door!”

“I’ll call you later Lance.” Slight shake, trying to cover it up by hitting the end button.

“What do you want?” wary.

 

Things had calmed down by the time he’d left. No dagger looks or glassy crystalline eyes. Just starting at the floor quiet and slumped. Pale. Still pale.

“Was that Lance?”

Nodding.

“Yeah. Wanted to see how things went.”

“Can I come in?”

“You asked that already.”

“Are you saying no?” suddenly unsure, fidgeting with his lighter. Cigarette’s nowhere in sight.

He opened the door wider but didn’t get out of the way, made him push past, brush up against him. Tight thrill and then he made himself close the door.

 

AJ made a beeline for the sofa, taking up the same seat he’d had before. This time all alone without Nick. Chris scratched his head absently.

“Anything I can get you?”

“A drink.”

Shock. Horror. Blinking, jaw somewhere near the floor.

AJ finally looked up.

“No, no not that kind of drink!” horrified. “I just…whatever we had before. That orange stuff.”

“The fanta?”

“Isn’t that the green shit?”

“That’s what Lance keeps saying.”

Raised eyebrow.

“It’s the orange stuff.”

Silence. No one moved.

“Drink. Right. I’ll be right back.”

 

Breathe Kirkpatrick. Just breathe. Its’ just AJ. In your house. Not trying to rip your head off. Not with smarter than he looks Nick accessory. Just AJ. Right. Sure. And the Virgin Mary was well…a Virgin. Well maybe. Probably. Okai stop thinking just…drinks. Right. Drinks.

 

The dark sun glasses were gone by the time he got back. Fanta in one hand coke in the other. No beer. No alcohol. Despite the fact he was half way through one in the den. The den where the game was still paused and the beer was still cold.

 

“Here.”

Handing him the glass. Hell he’d put it in a glass instead of just handing him a can of the stuff.

“Thanks.” Looking up from his contemplation of the floor.

Red eyes. Red rimmed. Blotchy. Shit. Chris stopped. Paused. Decided on a seat for all of one second and sank down next to him. Short, side ways glance then a long drink of soda.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Silence.

 

“You were right, before.”

He curbed the urge to say naturally.

“Um…okai.”

Brown eyes blinking, still red rimmed, still blotchy. Staring at him sideways. Watching, analyzing.

“I was being a prick. I just…I should have know. Figured it out. And I didn’t.” quiet.

He’d be bouncing with glee at the idea of comforting AJ if it wasn’t for the whole…Howie being really, seriously depressed and not one of his “boys” knowing anything about it thing.

“I still don’t get that.”

Waiting for the anger. Silence. He was staring at the floor again. Glass hanging in his hands. Hiccup. SHIT!! Okai. Crying. AJ crying. Um…Carefully taking the glass so he didn’t spill it. Noticing he didn’t even protest. Then action, wiping hands at his eyes.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Edging away.

Chris was suddenly infinitely glad all he’d ever had to deal with was an over confident infant, a neurotic bouncing JC and Joey getting knocked up.

“It’s alright. Really. Was just thinking how fucked up it’d be if it was one of us.”

Which wasn’t entirely true but close.

 

AJ was just suddenly blinking at him. Glassy eyes and all. Words evaporated, mouth suddenly dry.

“And you know Howie, stubborn, difficult and you can’t tell him anything, he just doesn’t listen and he’s…likes his privacy and doesn’t like it when you try to take care of him and you know he’s just…um…” babbling.

 

Taking a breath.

“Lance says he’s getting kinda…paranoid. Doesn’t want to make you guys worry. Seems to kinda…freak him out. Make him worse. You know…if he thinks you guys are worried.”

 

Still blinking, silent, listening. Chris jittered, fidgeted with his wrist band.

 

“But he’s doing better…sleeping and…stopped being cold all the time and…he eats. Not like he’s stopped eating.”

 

Nodding. Understanding.

“Is he going to freak when we come back?” voice rough, huskier than normal.

Tiny shudder, thrill.  Eyes piercing. Swallowing hard. Control. He could sit here with AJ. Talk. Not jump him. Not want to…who the hell was he kidding he wanted, but he could just….not. Licking his lips nervous.

 

“Maybe.” honest.

Tears again. But nodding. Wrapping his hands together, elbows on knees lips brushing knuckles.

“What would you do?” not looking at him at all.

Blink. Pause. Shock.

“Act normal.”

Piercing brown but soft, glassy.

“He had a razor Chris. A big freaking…” trailing off, eyes wide.

Chris paused but he seemed, he needed, fuck it. Hugging him, one arm wrapping round his shoulders, so small, holding him tight.

“Kevin’s a dickhead.”

Jolt, snort of laughter.

“That’s your answer?” incredulous.

“Answer to the universe.” Nodding solemnly.

“That’s my buddy you’re talking about you know.”

“You’re an asshole if that helps.”

Suddenly wishing he were somewhere, anywhere else. Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m sorry.” Quiet. “You were right.” Pause. “I’ve been…caught up in the…forgot about…Do you think I could call Lance? Talk to him first?” desperate.

“I’ll get him to call you.”

“Thanks.” Shuddering.

 

Relaxing, sliding into his arm. Chris still hadn’t let go and he wasn’t protesting. Felt good, felt nice. Grounding. Stopping him flying apart. Into a thousand stupid angry hurt, useless directions. Useless. Felt so useless. Should have know. Should have helped. Done something. So self absorbed. Some things didn’t change. He never changed. Had to change. Had to help Howie. Had to fix this. Stop Howie hurting. Howie hurting. Hard to breathe. Howie hurting…huge freaking razor…Chris’s hand rubbing his back. Small circles, keeping him in close, tight. Head hanging low. Panic. Not going to panic. Not right now. Had to…do something. Useful. Had to be…Breathe. Right now he just had to breathe. Stupid anxiety.

 

And Chris wasn’t saying anything. Just holding him. Arm close, hand rubbing. Not stroking not…hell he knew about Chris. Knew he lusted, liked, whatever it was, knew this was a great opportunity for him. Get a grope in, feel him up whilst he was…whatever he was doing here. But he wasn’t. He was just…holding. Helping. Not taking advantage. And it was easier to breathe. Chest not so tight. Heart slowing back to what passed for normal.

 

Silence. Chris’s arm still holding him together but not, he didn’t really need it. Could breathe again but…he didn’t want to move. Didn’t want Chris to let go. Knew it was probably, he was probably teasing. Or he was being self obsessed again and Chris wasn’t even affected by him anymore, wasn’t interested. Shuddering breath. Chris’s hand stroked up his back soft, rubbing his shoulder then finally letting go, shifting slightly away. Frozen, he couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, lose the…fuck. Fucking hell. Selfish, self obsessed asshole again.

 

Stop he really had to fucking stop this shit.

 

There was a really long, tight, slightly uncomfortable pause. He was still frozen and Chris wasn’t moving. Silence. Then the arm snuck back around again, resting loose over his back. Hand hooked over his shoulder. There was still silence. Chris was jittering, leg jolting, fidgeting.

 

“Um so…you and Nick ha?” Chris suddenly breaking the silence.

Frown, pause, turning his head to glance at Chris. Was Chris trying to say something?

“Nick?” husky, confused.

“Yeah you know, you and Nick. Flew in together. Howie didn’t say anything to Lance and it’s not like we care or anything. I mean none of us ever really went there…I mean with each other cause you know infants and all that.”

“What the fuck?” finally pulling away.

What the fuck was this idiot babbling about?

“You and Nick.” Staring into AJ’s face now. “It’s cute and he’s not so stupid. At least not as stupid as I thought but I figured that out years ago.”

“Are you calling Nick stupid?” demanding.

“No…no. Actually I was saying he’s not stupid. He just…says stupid things sometimes, when cameras are around and you know we all say stupid stuff. I’m probably saying stupid stuff right now.” Smiling.

 

Oh god. Shut up. Just shut up now. Mentally groaning. AJ was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had. With AJ all up close beside him, smelling smooth and male. Faint scent of cologne but none that he knew. Brown eyes just staring at him. Darker than Howie’s. Closer to his own darkness. Browness. God he really needed to shut up. Even in his own mind. SHUT UP!

 

And then it clicked. Chris thought he and Nick were a couple. Laughing. Barking, choking on it. Half hysterical giggle following the initial shocked amusement. Oh god. That was…well Nick was…but Nick? He and Nick? It just…ludicrous. He couldn’t do that. Not with Nick. Nick was like a brother. Closer than a brother. They loved, there was no doubt about that but still…yeah men were just as attractive to him as women but still. There was nothing going on between him and Nick. For starters Nick was as straight as they come. Despite the exposure. Despite the endless possibilities. He just didn’t go there, think that way. And Chris thought…still giggling, holding his stomach. Crying again but this time it didn’t hurt quite so much.

 

Chris was pulling away. Standing up. Glaring down at him as he rocked back, hiccup, giggle, crying. He raised a hand to stop him.

“I’m…I’m sorry it’s just…” trying to smother the giggles. “We aren’t. Nick isn’t.”

Finally falling silent. But the tears were still there. Still falling. Too much emotion and he just couldn’t stop now.

“Christ. Shit.”

He couldn’t stop. Hadn’t been able to stop all afternoon and now it was starting again.

“Sorry.”

Pulling away this time, standing up when Chris dropped down beside him.

“I just…I should go.”

Blinking through a haze of tears, contacts swimming in the flood. Watching Chris stand slowly and the look on his face, not what he was expecting. Compassion. Only made things worse. Made him cry harder. Half sobs till he couldn’t see through the stream of tears. Chris’ hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. I hate saying it but it’s not. He didn’t want you to know.” Gentle, serious.

Hand squeezing, shaking him carefully.

“He’s not dead.” Sounding uncomfortable. “He’s doing better with Lance. And now you know and you can…”

“Do what?” half angry, half dejected.

“Pull your head out of your ass and help him!” snapping.

“Like sending Lance to help him.” Sneering.

“Lance has done a fuck load more to help him than you have!” snarling now.

“And what the fuck have you done?” demanding.

“At least I didn’t stick my head in the fucking sand. What would you have liked me to do? Hmm? Send him to therapy? Commit him to an asylum? Demand he tell me exactly what the fuck is eating at him? I’m sorry, I actually thought being around when he wanted to talk or making him know I wasn’t taking his “I’m fine” bull shit was doing something!” glaring, staring AJ down. “Or maybe it was something as simple as refusing to be blown off every time he said he was too busy or too tired or whatever other obvious shit he said. Maybe it was just not giving up on him like the rest of you fuckers did when it was easier to walk away and leave him to deal with this shit by him self.”

 

“We tried.”

“You stopped trying fucking months ago.” Sneering. “When it was too hard for you to watch him slide further into depression. When it was far easier to walk the fuck away and detach yourself and pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t try to find out either.”

“He stopped…”

“So what? You can’t get on a plane and come see him? Can’t send someone else around to check to see he’s still alive?”

Silence.

 

No tears this time. Just silence. Chris furious and trying not to scream sense at the stupid mother fuckers who called themselves Howie’s ‘brothers’.

“Get out.” Quiet, trying so hard not to scream. “Get the fuck out!” growling, lower register finally showing.

AJ was staring. Shocked. Chris was right. He was wrong. And he was right.

“I’m sorry.” Hoarse.

“Don’t fucking tell me, tell that to him.”

“Thank you.” Gravel voice.

“Don’t fucking thank me either.”

Silence again. Chris glaring at AJ.

“I thought I told you to get out.”

“You did.”

“You’re not leaving.”

AJ slowly shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“You seem to know what’s going on.”

“With Howie?”

Nodding.

“It’s…the reason I came back. I wanted to talk, to ask…how is he really? Does Lance make him happy? I want to know what’s really going on.”

“Nice to see you’ve finally pulled your head out.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say Chris? Cause I’ll say it! Whatever the fuck it is. But I’m asking you to…help.” The word sticking in his throat.

 

“Sit the fuck down.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Chris shrugged, sitting back on the sofa.

“Never claimed not to be.”

AJ sat next to him, leaving space between them this time.

“What do you want to know?”

“Are Lance and Howie…I mean are they…?”

“That’s your first question?”

“Well Lance is the closest person to him right now.”

Pause, staring at AJ, mildly shocked. Nodding.

“Lance will take care of him.”

“But are they…together.”

“Maybe you should ask Lance.”

Frowning frustrated.

“Why don’t you just answer the damned question?”

“You want to know if they’re fucking? Is that it?” snapping.

Blinking. Pausing to admit to himself.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I…why Lance? Why is Lance doing this? Why not you or…or why didn’t you tell us before?”

Blushing.

“Howie’s quiet. I…drive him nuts after a few hours.” Glancing away. “And I figured you knew, I mean it was pretty fucking obvious and Kevin knew all about it. Or at least I thought he did. He did find the fucking razor.”

“But why Lance?”

Quiet eye flick, meeting his eyes then looking away.

 

How much to tell? How much would Lance kill him for later? Any way to tell half the story but not the whole thing? AJ was silent, patiently waiting for an answer. Licking dry lips.

“Does it really matter why it was Lance?”

Frowning. It did now. Because now he really wanted to know. What was it about Lance that made Chris instantly turn to him? Yes they both lived in Orlando. And yes they had been introduced before so it wasn’t like Lance was a complete stranger.

“Lance is going to fucking kill me.” Muttering.

AJ raised an eyebrow. Chris groaned.

“Lance had a thing for Howie. I figured he’d…I don’t know. Keep him company. Figure out what was wrong. Get him to talk. Lance is good at stuff like that.”

Frowning amusement.

“You set them up? That was your brilliant plan?”

“Fuck off. It worked.”

“Only cause Howie had a thing for Lance.”

Long stare. Silence.

“You’re kidding.” Disbelief.

“Every time he was in the room you couldn’t get Howie to pay attention to anything. And if you guys were performing forget it.” Smiling at the memories.

“I’m brilliant!”

“You were lucky.”

“It worked!”

“Only because they had a thing for each other anyway. All you did was push them together.”

“At least I did something.”

Swallowing hard.

“Yeah. Sorry I…it was a good idea.” Quiet. “I’m glad it worked.”

“So am I.” quiet.

 

Silence again but it wasn’t so tense this time.


End file.
